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fHE EXPOSITOR'S BIBT 1 
 
 EDITED BY THE REV. 
 
 W. ROBERTSON NrrOLL, M.A., ^ ^ n 
 
 Editor of " The Expositor'' 
 
 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS, 
 
 PY 
 
 r II O K i vj .N M . A 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 ARMSTRONG AND ^^ >^^ 
 51 EAST TENTH STREET 
 
 (NEAR BROADWAY). 
 189I. 
 
THE EXPOSITOR'S BIBLE. 
 
 Edited by the Rev. W. ROBERTSON NICOLL, M.A., LL.D. 
 Croivn %vo^ cloth. 
 
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 C. ARMSTRONG AND SON, 
 
TIIK 
 
 BOOK OF PROVERBS 
 
 R. F. HORTON, M.A 
 
 Hampstcaci ; 
 
 l.ATE FELLOW OF NEW COLLEGE, OXFORD. 
 
 <r.f V 01 Vur-f^^ 
 
 n5* 
 
 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 A. C. ARMSTRONG AND SON, 
 51 EAST TENTH STREET 
 
 (near BROADWAY). 
 189I. 
 
" Shrewd remarks 
 Of moral prudence, clothed in images 
 Lively and beautiful." 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 INTRODUCTION ........ I 
 
 L 
 
 THE BEGINNING OV WISDOM ...... 9 
 
 11. 
 
 WISDOM AS THE GUIDE OF CONDUCT . . . ^4 
 
 III. 
 
 THE EARIHLY REWARDS OF WISDOM -37 
 
 IV. 
 EDUCATION : THE CHILD's THOUGHT OF THE PARENT . 52 
 
 THE WAYS AND ISSUES OF SIN . . . . • ^5 
 
 VI. 
 
 CERTAIN EXAMPLES OF THE BINDING CHARACTER OF OUR 
 
 OWN ACTIONS ....... 79 
 
vi CONTENTS. 
 
 VII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 REALISM IX MORAL TEACHING . . . . . 92 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE FIRST-BORN OF THE CREATOR 
 
 . 106 
 
 IX. 
 
 TWO VOICES IN THE HIGH PLACES OF THE CITY . .122 
 
 X. 
 
 WEALTH ... a 13s 
 
 XI. 
 
 GOODNESS . . . . . . . . . 149 
 
 XII. 
 
 THE TONGUE . . . . .- . . - ^^^ 
 
 XIII. 
 
 PRIDE AND HUMILITY . . . ■ -179 
 
 XIV. 
 
 THE INWARD UNAPPROACHABLE LIFE . . . . I9I 
 
 XV. 
 
 A PASSIONATE DISPOSITION ...... 2O3 
 
 XVI. 
 
 A JUST BALANCE . . . . . • • '215 
 
CONTENTS. vii 
 
 XVII. 
 
 PACE 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. ........ 227 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 THE EVIL OF ISOLATION 239 
 
 XIX. 
 
 HUMAN FREEDOM . . . . . . . -250 
 
 XX. 
 
 IDLENESS 262 
 
 XXI. 
 
 WINE 275 
 
 XXII. 
 
 THE TREATMENT OF THE POOR ..... 288 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 EDUCATION : THE PARENt's THOUGHT OF THE CHILD . 303 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 FORGIVING 314 
 
 XXV. 
 
 THE KING . . . . . . . . '32 5 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 THE FOOL ......... 337 
 
viii CONTENTS. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 PAGE 
 LIVING DAY BY DAY 350 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 AN ASPECT OF ATONEMENT 362 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 THE NEED OF REVELATION . . . . . '375 
 
 XXX. 
 
 THE WORDS OF AGUR 386 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 A GOOD WOMAN . . . . . . . " . 396 
 
 INDEX OF PASSAGES . . . , . . . 4T I 
 
 GENERAL INDEX '. . , . ... . 416 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 IN attempting to make the book of Proverbs a sub- 
 ject of Expository Lectures and practical sermons 
 it has been necessary to treat the book as a uniform 
 composition, following, chapter by chapter, the order 
 which the compiler has adopted, and bringing the 
 scattered sentences together under subjects which are 
 suggested by certain more striking points in the 
 successive chapters. By this method the great bulk of 
 the matter contained in the book is brought under 
 review, either in the way of exposition or in the way 
 of quotation and allusion, though even in this method 
 many smaller sayings slip through the expositor's 
 meshes. But the grave defect of the method which is 
 thus employed is that it completely obliterates those 
 interesting marks, discernible on the very surface of 
 the book, of the origin and the compilation of the 
 separate parts. This defect the reader can best supply 
 by turning to Professor Cheyne's scholarly work " Job 
 and Solomon ; or. The Wisdom of the Old Testament ; " 
 but for those who have not time or opportunity to refer 
 to any book besides the one which is in their hands, a 
 brief Introduction to the following Lectures may not be 
 unwelcome. 
 
 The Jewish tradition ascribed the Proverbs, or 
 Sayings of the Wise, to Solomon, just as it ascribed 
 
 I 
 
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 the Psalms, or inspired lyrics of the poets, to King 
 David, and we may add, just as it ascribed all the gradual 
 accretions and developments of the Law to Moses. 
 But even a very uncritical reader will observe that the 
 book of Proverbs as we have it is not the work of a 
 single hand ; and a critical inquiry into the language 
 and style of the several parts, and also into the social 
 and political conditions which are implied by them, has 
 led scholars to the conclusion that, at the most, a 
 certain number of Solomon's wise sayings are included 
 in the collection, but that he did not in any sen^e 
 compose the book. In fact, the statement in I Kings 
 iv. 32, "He spake three thousand proverbs," implies 
 that his utterances were recorded by others, and not 
 written down by himself, and the heading to chap. xxv. 
 of our book suggests that the " men of Hezekiah " 
 collected the reputed sayings of Solomon from several 
 sources, one of those sources being the collection con- 
 tained in the previous chapters.^ 
 
 The opening words, then, of the book — " The 
 Proverbs of Solomon the son of David, King of Israel " 
 — are not to be taken as an assertion that all which 
 follows flowed from Solomon's pen, but rather as a 
 general description and key-note of the subject of the 
 treatise. It is as if the compiler wished to say, ' This 
 is a compendiur.i of those wise sayings current among 
 us, the model and type of which may be found in the 
 proverbs attributed to the wisest of men, King Solomon.' 
 That this is the way in which we must understand the 
 
 ' Cf. xxv. 24 (xxi. 9), xxvi. 22 (xviii. 8), xxvii. 12 (xxii. 3), xxvii. 
 13 (xx. 16), xxvi. 13 (xxii. 13), xxvi. 15 (xix. 24), xxviii. 6 (xix. i^, 
 xxviii. I9(xii. ii), xxix. 13 (xxii. 2) ; to which add xxvii. 15 (xix. 13), 
 xxvii. 21 (xvii. 3), xxix, 22 (xv. 18). 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 title becomes plain when we find contained in the book 
 a passage described as " the sayings of the wise " (xxiv. 
 23-34), ^ chapter distinctly entitled " The Words of 
 Agur/' and another paragraph headed ^' The Words of 
 King Lemuel." 
 
 Leaving aside the traditional view of the authorship, 
 which the book itself shows to be misleading, the con- 
 tents ma}" be briefly delineated and characterized. 
 
 The main body of Proverbs is the collection which 
 begins at chap, x., " The Proverbs of Solomon," and 
 ends at xxii. 16. This collection has certain distinct 
 features which mark it off from all that precedes and 
 from all that follows. It is, strictly speaking, a collection 
 of proverbs, that is of brief, pointed sayings, — sometimes 
 containing a similitude, but more generally consisting 
 of a single antithetical moral sentiment, — such as spring 
 into existence and pass current in every society of men. 
 All these proverbs are identical in form : each is 
 expressed in a distich ; the apparent exception in xix. 7 
 is to be explained by the obvious fact that the third 
 clause is the mutilated fragment of another proverb, 
 which in the LXX. appears complete : 6 ttoXXcl KaKoirotcov 
 jeXeatovpyel KaKiav, 09 5e ipeOl^eo Xoyov^; ov aodOrjaerai. 
 As the form is the same in all, so the general drift of 
 their teaching is quite uniform ; the morality inculcated 
 is of no very lofty type ; the motives for right conduct 
 are mainly prudential ; there is no sense of mystery or 
 wonder, no tendency to speculation or doubt; "Be 
 good, and you will prosper; be wicked, and you will 
 suffer," is the sum of the whole. A few scattered pre- 
 cepts occur which seem to touch a higher level and to 
 breathe a more spiritual air ; and it is possible, as has 
 been suggested, that these were added by the author of 
 
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 chaps, i.-ix., when he revised and pubHshed the compila- 
 tion. Such a sentiment as xiv. 34 well accords with 
 the utterance of Wisdom in viii. 15, 16. And the series 
 of proverbs which are grouped on the principle of their 
 all containing the name of Jahveh, xv. 33-xvi. 7 (cf. 
 xvi. 20, 33) seems to be closely linked with the 
 opening chapters of the book. Assuming the proverbs 
 of this collection to spring from the same period, and to 
 reflect the social conditions which then prevailed, we 
 should say that it points to a time of comparative 
 simplicity and purity, when the main industry was that 
 of tilling the soil, when the sayings of wise people were 
 valued by an unsophisticated community, when the 
 family life was pure, the wife honoured (xii. 4 ; xviii. 22 ; 
 xix. 14), and parental authority maintained, and when 
 the king was still worthy of respect, the immediate 
 and obedient instrument of the Divine government 
 (xxi. i). The whole collection seems to date from the 
 earlier and happier times of the monarchy. 
 
 To this collection is added an appendix (xxii. 17- 
 xxiv. 22), which opens with an exhortation addressed 
 by the teacher to his pupil. The literary form of this 
 appendix falls far behind the style of the main 
 collection. The terse and compact distich occurs 
 rarely ; most of the sayings are more cumbrous and 
 elaborate, and in one case there is a brief didactic poem 
 carried through several verses (xxiii. 29-35). As the 
 style of composition shows a decline, so the general 
 conditions which form the background of the sayings 
 are less happy. They seem to indicate a time of grow- 
 ing luxury ; gluttony and drunkenness are the subjects 
 of strong invective. It appears that the poor are 
 oppressed by the rich (xxii. 22), and justice is not 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 rightly administered, so that the innocent are carried 
 away into confinement (xxiv. ii, 12). There is poli- 
 tical unrest, too, and the young have to be cautioned 
 against the revolutionary or anarchical spirit (xxiv. 2 1 ). 
 We are evidently brought down to a later period in 
 Israel's melancholy history. 
 
 Another brief appendix follows (xxiv. 23-34), in 
 which the distich form almost entirely disappears ; it 
 is remarkable as containing a little picture (30-34), 
 which, like the much longer passage in vii. 6-27, is 
 presented as the personal observation of the writer. 
 
 We now pass on to an entirely new collection, 
 ch. xxv.-xxix., which was made, we are told, in the 
 literary circle at the court of Hezekiah, two hundred 
 and fifty years or thereabouts after the time of Solomon. 
 In this collection there is no uniformity of structure 
 such as distinguished the proverbs of the first collection. 
 Some distichs occur, but as often as not the proverb 
 is drawn out into three, four, and in one case (xxv. 6, 7) 
 five clauses ; xxvii. 23-27 forms a brief connected ex- 
 hortation, which is a considerable departure from the 
 simple structure of the masJial, or proverb. The social 
 condition reflected in these chapters is not very attrac- 
 tive ; it is clear that the people have had experience 
 of a bad ruler (xxix. 2) ; we seem to have hints of the 
 many troubled experiences through which the monarchy 
 of Israel passed — the divided rule, the injustice, the 
 incapacity, the oppression (xxviii. 2, 3, 12, 15, 16, 28). 
 There is one proverb which particularly recalls the 
 age of Hezekiah, when the doom of the exile was already 
 being proclaimed by the prophets : " As a bird that 
 wandereth from her nest, so is a man that wandereth 
 from his place " (xxvii. 8). And it is perhaps charac- 
 
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 teristic of that troubled time, when the spiritual life was 
 to be deepened by the experience of material suffering 
 and national disaster, that this collection contains a 
 proverb which might be almost the key-note of the New 
 Testament morality (xxv. 21, 22). 
 
 The book closes with three quite distinct passages, 
 which can only be regarded as appendices. According 
 to one interpretation of the very difficult words ^which 
 stand at the head of chaps, xxx. and xxxi., these para- 
 graphs would come from a foreign source ; it has been 
 thought that the word translated " oracle" might be the 
 name of the country mentioned in Gen. xxv. 14, Massa. 
 But whether Jakeh and King Lemuel were natives of 
 this shadowy land or not, it is certain that the whole 
 tone and drift of these two sections are ahen to the 
 general spirit of the book. There is something enig- 
 matical in their st3^1e and artificial in their form, which 
 would suggest a very late period in Israel's literary 
 history. And the closing passage, which describes the 
 virtuous woman, is distinguished by being an alpha- 
 betical acrostic, the verses beginning with the successive 
 letters of the Hebrew alphabet, a kind of composition 
 which points to the dawn of Rabbinical methods in 
 literature. It is impossible to say when or how these 
 curious and interesting additions were made to our 
 book, but scholars have generally recognized them as 
 the product of the exile, if not the post-exile, period. 
 
 Now, the two collections which have been described, 
 with their several appendices, were at some favourable 
 point in religious history, possibly in those happy days 
 of Josiah when the Deuteronomic Law was newly 
 promulgated to the joyful nation, brought together, and, 
 as we should say now, edited, with an original intro- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 duction by an author who, unknown to us by name, 
 is among the greatest and noblest of Biblical writers. 
 The first nine chapters of the book, which form the 
 introduction to the whole, strike a far higher note, 
 appeal to nobler conceptions, and are couched in a much 
 loftier style than the book itself. The writer bases his 
 moral teaching on Divine authority rather than on the 
 uti litar ian basis which prevails in most of the proverbs. 
 Writing in a time when the temptations to a lawless 
 and sensual life were strong, appealing to the wealthier 
 and more cultured youth of the nation, he proceeds in 
 sweet and earnest discourse to woo his readers from 
 the paths of vice into the Temple of Wisdom and Virtue. 
 His method of contrasting the '' two ways," and exhort- 
 ing men to shun the one and choose the other, con- 
 stantly reminds us of the similar appeals in the Book 
 of Deuteronomy ; but the touch is more graphic and more 
 vivid ; the gifts of the poet are employed in depicting 
 the seven-pillared House of Wisdom and the deadly 
 ways of Folly ; and in the wonderful passage which 
 introduces Wisdom appeahng to the sons of men, on the 
 ground of the part which she plays in the Creation and by 
 the throne of God, we recognize the voice of a prophet — 
 a prophet, too, who holds one of the highest places in 
 the line of those who foretold the coming of our Lord. 
 
 Impossible as it has been in the Lectures to bring 
 out the history and structure of the book, it will greatly 
 help the reader to bear in mind what has just been 
 said ; he will thus be prepared for the striking contrast 
 between the glowing beauty of the introduction and 
 the somewhat frigid precepts which occur so frequently 
 among the Proverbs themselves ; he will be able to 
 appreciate more fully the point which is from time 
 
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 to time brought into relief, that much of the teaching 
 contained in the book is crude and imperfect, of value 
 for us only when it has been brought to the standard 
 of our Lord's spirit, corrected by His love and wisdom, 
 or infused with His Divine life. And especially as the 
 reader approaches those strange chapters '* The Sayings 
 of Agur " and " The Sayings of King Lemuel " he will 
 be glad to remind himself of the somewhat loose relation 
 in which they stand to the main body of the work. 
 
 In few parts of the Scripture is there more need than 
 in this of the ever-present Spirit to interpret and apply 
 the written word, to discriminate and assort, to arrange 
 and to combine, the varied utterances of the ages. 
 Nowhere is it more necessary to distinguish between 
 the inspired speech, which comes to the mind of prophet 
 or poet as a direct oracle of God, and the speech 
 which is the product of human wisdom, human obser- 
 vation, and human common sense, and is only in that 
 secondary sense inspired. In the book of Proverbs 
 there is much which is recorded for us by the wisdom 
 of God, not because it is the expression of God's 
 wisdom, but distinctly because it is the expression 
 of man's wisdom ; and among the lessons of the book 
 is the sense of limitation and incompleteness which 
 human wisdom leaves upon the mind. 
 
 But under the direction of the Holy Spirit, the 
 reader may not only learn from the Proverbs much 
 practical counsel for the common duties of life ; he may 
 have, from time to time, rare and wonderful glimpses 
 into the heights and depths of God. 
 
THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM. 
 
 "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge." — Prov. i. 7. 
 
 "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom : 
 And the knowledge of the Holy One is understanding." — Prov. 
 ix. 10. 
 
 {Cf. Eccles. i. 14, "To fear the Lord is the beginning of wisdom : 
 and it was created with the faithful in the womb ; " also Ps. cxi. 10.) 
 
 THE book of Proverbs belongs to a group of works 
 in the Hebrew literature the subject of which 
 is Wisdom. It is probably the earliest of them all, 
 and may be regarded as the stem, of which they are 
 the branches. Without attempting to determine the 
 relative ages of these compositions, the ordinary reader 
 can see the points of contact between Proverbs and 
 Ecclesiastes, and a little careful study reveals that the 
 book of Job, though fuller and richer in every respect, 
 belongs to the same order. Outside the canon of 
 Holy Scripture we possess two works which avowedly 
 owe their suggestion and inspiration to our book, viz. 
 " The Wisdom of Jesus the Son of Sirach," commonly 
 called Ecclesiasticus, a genuinely Hebrew product, and 
 "The Wisdom of Solomon," commonly called the Book 
 of Wisdom, of much later origin, and exhibiting that 
 fusion of Hebrew religious conceptions with Greek 
 speculation which prevailed in the Jewish schools of 
 Alexandria. 
 
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 Now, the question at once occurs, What are we to 
 understand by the Wisdom which gives a subject and 
 a title to this extensive field of literature ? and in what 
 relation does it stand to the Law and the Prophets, which 
 form the great bulk of the Old Testament Scriptures ? 
 
 Broadly speaking, the Wisdom of the Hebrews 
 covers the whole domain of what we should call Science 
 and Philosophy. It is the consistent effort of the 
 human mind to know, to understand, and to explain all 
 that exists. It is, to use the modern phrase, the search 
 for truth. The ^* wdse men " were not, like Moses and 
 the Prophets, inspired legislators and heralds of God's 
 immediate messages to mankind ; but rather, like the 
 wise men among the earlier Greeks, Thales, Solon, 
 Anaximenes, or like the Sophists among the later 
 Greeks, Socrates and his successors, they brought all 
 their faculties to bear in observing the facts of the 
 world and of hfe, and in seeking to interpret them, and 
 then in the public streets or in appointed schools 
 endeavoured to communicate their knowledge to the 
 young. Nothing was too high for their inquiry : *' That 
 which is is far off, and exceeding deep ; who can find it 
 out ? " ^ yet they tried to discover and to explain that 
 which is. Nothing was too lowly for their attention ; 
 wisdom "reaches from one end to another mightily, 
 and sweetly orders all things." ^ Their purpose finds 
 expression in the words of Ecclesiastes, '* I turned 
 about, and my heart was set to know and to search 
 out, and to seek wisdom and the reason of things." ^ 
 
 But by Wisdom is meant not merely the search, but 
 also the discovery; not merely a desire to know, but 
 
 ' Eccl. vii. 24. 2 Wisdom viii. i. ^ Eccl. vii. 25. 
 
i. 7.] THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM. Ii 
 
 also a certain body of conceptions ascertained and 
 sufficiently formulated. To the Hebrew mind it would 
 have seemed meaningless to assert that Agnosticism 
 was wisdom. It was saved from this paradoxical con- 
 clusion by its firmly rooted faith in God. Mystery 
 might hang over the details, but one thing was plain : 
 the whole universe was an intelhgent plan of God ; the 
 mind might be baffled in understanding His ways, but 
 that all existence is of His choosing and His ordering 
 was taken as the axiom with which all thought must 
 start. Thus there is a unity in the Hebrew Wisdom ; 
 the unity is found in the thought of the Creator ; all 
 the facts of the physical world, all the problems of 
 human life, are referred to His mind ; objective Wisdom 
 is God's Being, which includes in its circle everything ; 
 and subjective wisdom, wisdom in the human mind, 
 consists in becoming acquainted with His Being and 
 all that is contained in it, and meanwhile in constantly 
 admitting that He is, and yielding to Him the rightful 
 place in our thought. 
 
 But while Wisdom embraces in her wide survey all 
 things in heaven and in earth, there is one part of the 
 vast field which makes a special demand upon human 
 interest. The proper study of mankind is man. Very 
 naturally the earliest subject to occupy human thought 
 was human life, human conduct, human society. Or, 
 to say the same thing in the language of this book, 
 while Wisdom was occupied with the whole creation, 
 she specially rejoiced in the habitable earth, and her 
 delight was with the sons of men. 
 
 Theoretically embracing all subjects of human know- 
 ledge and reflection, the Wisdom of the Hebrew litera- 
 ture practically touches but little on what wc should 
 
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 now call Science, and even where attention was turned 
 to the facts and laws of the material world, it was 
 mainly in order to borrow similitudes or illustrations 
 for moral and religious purposes. King Solomon 
 " spake of trees, from the cedar that is in Lebanon even 
 unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall : he spake 
 also of beasts, and of fowl, and of creeping things, and 
 of fishes."^ But the Proverbs which have actually 
 come down to us under his name refer almost exclu- 
 sively to principles of conduct or observation of life, and 
 seldom remind us of the earth, the sea, and the sky, 
 except as the dwelling-place of men, the house covered 
 with paintings for his delight or filled with imagery for 
 his instruction. 
 
 But there is a further distinction to be drawn, and in 
 attempting to make it plain we may determine the 
 place of the Proverbs in the general scheme of the 
 inspired writings. Human life is a sufficiently large 
 theme ; it includes not only social and political ques- 
 tions, but the searchings and speculations of philosophy, 
 the truths and revelations of religion. From one point 
 of view, therefore, wisdom may be said to embrace the 
 Law and the Prophets, and in a beautiful passage of 
 Ecclesiasticus ^ the whole covenant of Jehovah with 
 
 ' I Kings iv. 33. 
 
 ^ In this passage Wisdom is represented saying — 
 "I from the mouth of the Highest came forth, and as vapour 1 
 
 veiled the earth ; 
 I in the heights pitched my tent, my throne in a pillar of cloud ; 
 I alone circled the ring of heaven, and walked in the depths of 
 
 abysses ; 
 In the waves of the sea, and in all the earth, and in every people 
 
 and race I obtained a possession ; 
 With all these I sought a rest (saying), In whose inheritance shall 
 
 I settle? 
 
i.7.] THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM. 13 
 
 Israel is treated as an emanation of wisdom from the 
 mouth of the Most High. Wisdom was the inspiration 
 of those who shaped the law and built the Holy 
 House, of those who ministered in the courts of the 
 Temple, and of those who were moved by the Holy 
 One to chide the faults of the people, to call them to 
 repentance, to denounce the doom of their sin, and 
 proclaim the glad promise of deliverance. Again, from 
 this large point of view Wisdom could be regarded as 
 the Divine Philosophy, the system of thought and the 
 body of beliefs which would furnish the explanation of 
 life, and would root all the decisions of ethics in eternal 
 principles of truth. And this function of Wisdom is 
 presented with singular beauty and power in the eighth 
 chapter of our book, where, as we shall see, the mouth 
 of Wisdom shows that her concern with men is derived 
 from her relation with the Creator and from her com- 
 prehension of His great architectural design in the 
 construction of the world. 
 
 Now, the wisdom which finds expression in the bulk 
 of the Proverbs must be clearly distinguished from 
 wisdom in this exalted sense. It is not the wisdom of 
 the Law and the Prophets ; it moves in a much lower 
 plane. It is not the wisdom of chap, viii., a philosophy 
 
 Then came to me the command of the Creator of all ; my Creator 
 
 pitched my tent ; and He said, 
 In Jacob pitch thy tent, in Israel find thine inheritance. 
 Before the world was, in the beginning He created me, and while 
 
 the world lasts I shall not fail : 
 In the holy tent before Him I offered service, and thus in Sion I 
 
 was planted ; 
 In the beloved city He likewise made me rest, and in Israel is my 
 
 power ; 
 • And I took root in a people that is glorified, in a portion of the Lord 
 
 His inheritance," — Eccles. xxiv. 3. 
 
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 which harmonizes human life with the laws of nature 
 by constantly connecting both with God. 
 
 The wisdom of the Proverbs differs from the wisdom 
 of the Prophets in this, that it is derived not directly, 
 but mediately from God. No special mind is directed 
 to shape these sayings ; they grow up in the common 
 mind of the people, and they derive their inspiration 
 from those general qualities which made the whole 
 nation in the midst of which they had their birth an 
 inspired nation, and gave to* all the literature of the 
 nation a peculiar and inimitable tone. The wisdom of 
 the Proverbs differs, too, from the wisdom of these intro- 
 ductory chapters in much the same way ; it is a dif- 
 ference which might be expressed by a familiar use 
 of words ; it is a distinction between Philosophy and 
 Proverbial Philosophy, a distinction, let us say, between 
 Divine Philosophy and Proverbial Philosophy. 
 
 The Proverbs are often shrewd, often edifying, some- 
 times almost evangelical in their sharp ethical insight ; 
 but we shall constantly be reminded that they do not 
 come with the overbearing authority of the prophetic 
 ^'Thus saith the Lord." And still more shall we be 
 reminded how far they lag behind the standard of life 
 and the principles of conduct which are presented to us 
 in Christ Jesus. 
 
 What has just been said seems to be a necessary 
 preliminary to the study of the Proverbs, and it is only 
 by bearing it in mind that we shall be able to appreciate 
 the difference in tone between the nine introductory 
 chapters and the main body of the book ; nor should 
 we venture, perhaps, apart from the consideration which 
 has been urged to exercise our critical sense in the 
 study of particular sayings, and to insist at all points 
 
i.7.] THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM. 15 
 
 on bringing the teaching of the wise men of old to the 
 standard and test of Him who is Himself made unto 
 us Wisdom. 
 
 But now to turn to our text. We must think of 
 wisdom in the largest possible sense, as including not 
 only ethics, but philosophy, and not only philosophy, 
 but religion ; yes, and as embracing in her vast survey 
 the whole field of natural science, when it is said that 
 the fear of the Lord is the beginning of zvisdom ; we must 
 think of knowledge in its fullest and most liberal extent 
 when we read that the fear of the Lord is the beginning 
 of knowledge. 
 
 In this pregnant truth we may distinguish three ideas : 
 firstf fear, or, as we should probably say, reverence, is 
 the pre-requisite of all scientific, philosophical, or reli- 
 gious truth ; second, no real knowledge or wisdom can 
 be attained which does not start with the recognition of 
 God ; and then, thirdly, the expression is not only 
 " the fear of God," which might refer only to the Being 
 that is presupposed in any inteUigent explanation of 
 phenomena, but the " fear of the Lord," i.e. of Jahveh, 
 the self-existent One, who has revealed Himself in a 
 special way to men as " I am what I am ; " and it is 
 therefore hinted that no satisfactory philosophy of 
 human life and history can be constructed which does 
 not build upon the fact of revelation. 
 
 We may proceed to dwell upon these three thoughts 
 in order. 
 
 I. Most religious people are willing to admit that 
 " the fear of the Lord is a fountain of life, to depart 
 from the snares of death." ^ But what is not always 
 
 * Prov. xiv. 27. 
 
1 6 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 observed is that the same attitude is necessary in the 
 intellectual sphere. And yet the truth may be illus- 
 trated in a quarter which to some of us may be sur- 
 prising. It is a notable fact that Modern Science had 
 its origin in two deeply religious minds. Bacon and 
 Descartes were both stirred to their investigation of 
 physical facts by their belief in the Divine Being who 
 was behind them. To mention only our great English 
 thinker, Bacon's Novum Organuni is the most reverent 
 of works, and no one ever realized more keenly than 
 he that, as Coleridge used to say, ^^ there is no chance 
 of truth at the goal where there is not a childlike humility 
 at the starting-point." 
 
 It is sometimes said that this note of reverence is 
 wanting in the great scientific investigators of our day. 
 So far as this is true, it is probable that their conclu- 
 sions will be vitiated, and we are often impressed by 
 the feeling that the unmannerly self-assertion and over- 
 weening self-confidence of many scientific writers augur 
 ill for the truth of their assertions. But, on the other 
 hand, it must be remembered that the greatest men of 
 science in our own, as in all other ages, are distinguished 
 by a singular simplicity, and by a reverence which 
 communicates itself to their readers. What could be 
 more reverent than Darwin's way of studying the coral- 
 insect or the earth-worm ? He bestowed on these 
 humble creatures of the ocean and of the earth the 
 most patient and loving observation. And his success 
 in understanding and explaining them was in proportion 
 to the respect which he showed to them. The coral- 
 diver has no reverence for the insect ; he is bent only 
 on gain, and he consequently can tell us nothing of the 
 coral reef and its growth, The gardener has no re- 
 
i. 7] THE BEGINNING OF JVISDOM. 17 
 
 verence for the worm ; he cuts it ruthlessly with his 
 spade, and flings it carelessly aside ; accordingly he is 
 not able to tell us of its lowly ministries and of the part 
 it plays in the fertilization of the soil. It was Darwin's 
 reverence which proved to be the beginning of know- 
 ledge in these departments of investigation ; and if it 
 was only the reverence of the naturalist, the truth is 
 illustrated all the better, for his knowledge of the unseen 
 and the eternal dwindled away, just as his perception 
 of beauty in literature and art declined, in proportion 
 as he suffered his spirit of reverence towards these 
 things to die. 
 
 Xhe gates of Knowledge and Wisdom are closed, and 
 they are opened only to the knock of Reverence. With- 
 out reverence, it is true, men may gain what is called 
 worldly knowledge and worldly wisdom; but these are far 
 removed from truth, and experience often shows us how 
 profoundly ignorant and how incurably blind pushing 
 and successful people are, whose knowledge is all turned 
 to delusion, and whose wisdom shifts round into folly, 
 precisely because the great pre-requisite was wanting. 
 The seeker after real knowledge will have little about 
 him which suggests worldly success. He is modest, self- 
 forgetful, possibly shy ; he is absorbed in a disinterested 
 pursuit, for he has seen afar the high, white star of 
 Truth ; at it he gazes, to it he aspires. Things which 
 only affect him personally make but little impression 
 on him ; things which affect the truth move, agitate, 
 excite him. A bright spirit is on ahead, beckoning to 
 him. The colour mounts to his cheek, the nerves thrill, 
 and his soul is filled with rapture, when the form seems 
 to grow clearer and a step is gained in the pursuit. 
 When a discovery is made he almost forgets that he 
 
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 is the discoverer ; he will even allow the credit of it to 
 pass over to another, for he would rather rejoice in the 
 truth itself than allow his joy to be tinged with a 
 personal consideration. 
 
 Yes, this modest, self-forgetful, reverent mien is 
 the first condition of winning Truth, who must be 
 approached on bended knee, and recognized with a 
 humble and a prostrate heart. There is no gainsaying 
 the fact that this fear, this reverence, is the beginning 
 of wisdom. 
 
 2. We pass now to an assertion bolder than the last, 
 that tJiere can be no true knowledge or wisdom which 
 does not start from the recognition of God. This is one 
 of those contentions, not uncommon in the Sacred 
 Writings, w^hich appear at first sight to be arbitrary 
 dogmas, but prove on closer inquiry to be the authori- 
 tative statements of reasoned truth. We are face to 
 face, in our day, with an avowedly atheistic philosophy. 
 According to the Scriptures, an atheistic philosophy is 
 not a philosophy at all, but only a folly : " The fool hath 
 said in his heart. There is no God." We have thinkers 
 among us who deem it their great mission to get rid of 
 the very idea of God, as one which stands in the way of 
 spiritual, social, and political progress. According to 
 the Scriptures, to remove the idea of God is to destroy 
 the key of knowledge and to make any consistent 
 scheme of thought impossible. Here certainly is a 
 clear and sharp issue. 
 
 Now, if this universe of which we form a part is a 
 thought of the Divine mind, a work of the Divine hand, 
 a scene of Divine operations, in which God is realizing, 
 by slow degrees, a vast spiritual purpose, it is self- . 
 evident that no attempt to understand the universe can 
 
i.7.] THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM. 19 
 
 be successful which leaves this, its fundamental idea, 
 out of account ; as well might one attempt to understand 
 a picture while refusing to recognize that the artist had 
 any purpose to express in painting it, or indeed that there 
 was any artist at all. So much every one will admit. 
 
 But if the universe is not the work of a Divine mind, 
 or the effect of a Divine will ; if it is merely the work- 
 ing of a blind, irrational Force, which realizes no end, 
 because it has no end to realize ; if we, the feeble 
 outcome of a long, unthinking evolution, are the first 
 creatures that ever thought^ and the only creatures 
 who now thuiky in all the universe of Being ; it follows 
 that of a universe so irrational there can be no true 
 knowledge for rational beings, and of a scheme of 
 things so unwise there can be no philosophy or wisdom. 
 No person who reflects can fail to recognize this, and 
 this is the truth which is asserted in the text. It is not 
 necessary to maintain that without admitting God we 
 cannot have knowledge of a certain number of empirical 
 facts ; but that does not constitute a philosophy or a 
 wisdom. It is necessary to maintain that without admit- 
 ting God we cannot have any explanation of our know- 
 ledge, or any verification of it ; without admitting God 
 our knowledge can never come to any roundness or 
 completeness such as might justify our calling it by 
 the name of Wisdom. 
 
 Or to put the matter in a slightly different way : a 
 thinking mind can only conceive the universe as the 
 product of thought ; if the universe is not the product 
 of thought it can never be intelligible to a thinking 
 mind, and can therefore never be in a true sense the 
 object of knowledge ; to deny that the universe is the 
 product of thought is to deny the possibility of wisdom. 
 
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 We find, then, that it is not a dogma, but a truth of 
 reason, that knowledge must start with the recognition 
 of God. 
 
 3. But now we come to an assertion which is the 
 boldest of all, and for the present we shall have to 
 be content to leave behind many who have readily 
 followed us so far. That we are bound to recognize 
 ^* the Lord," that is the God of Revelation, and bow 
 down in reverence before Him, as the first condition of 
 true wisdom, is just the truth which multitudes of men 
 who claim to be Theists are now strenuously denying. 
 Must we be content to leave the assertion merely as a 
 dogma enunciated on the authority of Scripture ? 
 
 Surely they, at any rate, who have made the beginning 
 of wisdom in the fear of the Lord should be able to show 
 that the possession which they have gained is actually 
 wisdom, and does not rest upon an irrational dogma, 
 incapable of proof. 
 
 We have already recognized at the outset that the 
 Wisdom of this book is not merely an intellectual 
 account of the reason of things, but also more specifi- 
 cally an explanation of the moral and spiritual life. It 
 may be granted that so far as the Intellect alone claims 
 satisfaction it is enough to posit the bare idea of God 
 as the condition of all rational existence. But when 
 men come to recognize themselves as Spiritual Beings, 
 with conceptions of right and wrong, with strong affec- 
 tions, with soaring aspirations, with ideas which lay 
 hold of Eternity, they find themselves-quite incapable of 
 being satisfied with the bare idea of God ; the soul within 
 them pants and thirsts for a living God. An intellectual 
 love of God might satisfy purely intellectual creatures; 
 but to meet the needs of man as he is, God must be a 
 
i. 7.] THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM. 21 
 
 God that manifests His own personality, and does not 
 leave Himself without a witness to His rational creature. 
 A wisdom, then, that is to truly appraise and rightly guide 
 the life of man must start with the recognition of a God 
 whose peculiar designation is the Self-existent One, and 
 who makes Himself known to man by that name ; that 
 is, it must start with the " fear of tJie LordT ^ 
 
 How cogent this necessity is appears directly the 
 alternative is stated. If Reason assures us of a God 
 that made us, a First Cause of our existence and of our 
 being what we are ; if Reason also compels us to refer 
 to Him our moral nature, our desire of holiness, and 
 our capacity of love, what could be a greater tax on 
 faith, and even a greater strain on the reason, than to 
 declare that, notwithstanding, God has not revealed 
 Himself as the Lord of our Hfe and the God of our sal- 
 vation, as the authority of righteousness or the object 
 of our love ? When the question is stated in this way 
 it appears that apart from a veritable and trustworthy 
 revelation there can be no wisdom which is capable of 
 really deahng with human life, as the life of spiritual and 
 moral creatures ; for a God who does not reveal Himself 
 would be devoid of the highest qualities of the human 
 spirit, and the belief in a God who is inferior to man, a 
 Creator who is less than the creature, could furnish 
 no foundation for an intelligible system of thought. 
 
 Our text now stands before us, not as the unsup- 
 
 ' It may be well to remind the reader who is too familiar with the 
 name " the Lord " to consider its significance; that " the Lord " is the 
 English translation of that peculiar name, Jahveh, by which God 
 revealed Himself to Moses, and the term Jahveh seems to convey one 
 of two ideas, existence or the cause of existence, according to the 
 vowel-pointing of the consonants n'in\ 
 
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 ported deliverance of dogma, but as a condensed utter- 
 ance of the human reason. We see that starting from 
 the conception of Wisdom as the sum of that which is, 
 and the sufficient explanation of all things, as including 
 therefore not only the laws of nature, but also the laws 
 of human life, both spiritual and moral, we can make 
 no step towards the acquisition of wisdom without a 
 sincere and absolute reverence, a recognition of God as 
 the Author of the universe which we seek to understand, 
 and as the Personal Being, the Self-existent One, who 
 reveals Himself under that significant name " I am," 
 and declares His will to our waiting hearts. " To 
 whom hath the root of Wisdom been revealed ? or who 
 hath known her wise counsels ? There is one wise, 
 and greatly to be feared, the Lord sitting upon His 
 throne." ^ 
 
 In this way is struck the key-note of the Jewish 
 " Wisdom." It is profoundly true ; it is stimulating 
 and helpful. But it may not be out of place to remind 
 ourselves even thus early that the idea on which we 
 have been dwelling comes short of the higher truth 
 which has been given us in Christ. It hardly entered 
 into the mind of a Hebrew thinker to conceive that 
 " fear of the Lord " might pass into full, whole-hearted, 
 and perfect love. And yet it may be shown that this 
 was the change effected when Christ was of God 
 *' made unto us Wisdom ; " it is not that the " fear," 
 or reverence, becomes less, but it is that the fear is 
 swallowed up in the larger and more gracious senti- 
 ment. For us who have received Christ as our Wisdom, 
 it has become almost a truism that we must love in 
 
 ' Eccles. i. 6, 8. 
 
7.] THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM. 23 
 
 order to know. We recognize that the causes of things 
 remain hidden from us until our hearts have been 
 kindled into an ardent love towards the First Cause, 
 God Himself: we find that even our processes of 
 reasoning are faulty until they are touched with the 
 Divine tenderness, and rendered sympathetic by the 
 infusion of a loftier passion. And it is quite in accord- 
 ance with this fuller truth that both science and philo- 
 sophy have made genuine progress only in Christian 
 lands and under Christian influences. Where the touch 
 of Christ's hand has been most decisively felt, in Ger- 
 many, in England, in America, and where consequently 
 Wisdom has attained a nobler, a richer, a more tender 
 significance, there, under fostering powers, which are 
 not the less real because they are not always acknow- 
 ledged, the great discoveries have been made, the 
 great systems of thought have been framed, and the 
 great counsels of conduct have gradually assumed 
 substance and authority. And from a wide observation 
 of facts we are able to say, "The fear of the Lord is 
 the beginning of wisdom and knowledge;" yes, but the 
 Wisdom of God has led us on from fear to love, and 
 in the Love of the Lord is found the fulfilment of that 
 which trembled into birth through fear. 
 
II. 
 
 WISDOM AS THE GUIDE OF CONDUCT. 
 
 " To deliver thee from the way of the evil man. . . . 
 To deliver thee from the strange woman." — Prov. ii. I2a-l6a. 
 
 WISDOM is concerned, as we have seen, with 
 the whole universe of fact, with the whole 
 range of thought ; she surveys and orders all pro- 
 cesses of nature. We might say of her, 
 
 " She doth preserve the stars from wrong, 
 And the most ancient heavens by her are fresh and strong." 
 
 But while she is occupied in these high things, she is no 
 less attentive to the affairs of human life, and her delight 
 is to order human conduct, not despising even the smallest 
 detail of that which is done by men under the sun. 
 Side by side with physical laws, indeed often intertwined 
 with them, appear the moral laws which issue from the 
 lively oracles of Wisdom. There is not one authority 
 for natural phenomena, and another for mental and moral 
 phenomena. As we should say now. Truth is one : 
 Science is one : Law is one. The laws of the physical 
 order, the laws of the speculative reason, the laws of 
 practical life, form a single system, come from the sole 
 mind of God, and are the impartial interests of Wisdom. 
 As the great authority on Conduct, Wisdom is pic- 
 tured standing in the places where men congregate, where 
 
ii. I2a-i6n.] WISDOM AS THE GUIDE OF CONDUCT. 25 
 
 the busy hum of human voices and the rush of hurried 
 feet make it necessary for her to Hft up her voice in order 
 to gain attention. With words of winsome wooing — 
 " for wisdom shall enter into thy heart, and knowledge 
 shall be pleasant unto thy soul " ^ — or with loud threats 
 and stern declarations of truth — '' the backsliding of the 
 simple shall slay them, and the prosperity of fools shall 
 destroy them " - — she tries to win us, while we are yet 
 young, to her paths of pleasantness and her ways of 
 peace. Her object is to deliver youth, (i) from the evil 
 man, and (2) from the evil woman, or in the most com- 
 prehensive way *' to deliver us from evil." 
 
 First of all, we may spend a few moments in noting 
 the particular temptations to which men were exposed 
 in the days when these chapters were written.^ There 
 was a temptation to join a troop of banditti, and to 
 obtain a living by acts of highway robbery which 
 would frequently result in murder ; and there was 
 the temptation to the sin which we call specifically 
 Impurity, a temptation which arose not so much from 
 the existence of a special class of fallen women, as 
 from the shocking looseness and voluptuousness of 
 married women in well-to-do circumstances. 
 
 Society under the kings never seems to have reached 
 anything approaching to an ordered security. We 
 cannot point to any period when the mountain roads, 
 even in the neighbourhood of the capital, were not 
 haunted by thieves, who lurked in the rocks or the 
 copses, and fell upon passing travellers, to strip and to 
 
 ' Prov. ii. 10. 2 Pi-ov. i. 32, 
 
 • We may remind ourselves that, according to the most probable 
 conjecture, this introduction to Solomon's Proverbs (chaps, i.-ix.) 
 dates from the reign of Josiah (640-609 b.c). 
 
26 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 rob, and if need be to kill them. When such things 
 are done, when such things are even recounted in 
 sensational literature, there are multitudes of young 
 men who are stirred to a debased ambition ; a spurious 
 glory encircles the brow of the adventurer who sets the 
 laws of society at defiance ; and without any personal 
 entreaty the foolish youth is disposed to leave the 
 quiet ways of industry for the stimulating excitement 
 and the false glamour of the bandit life. The reckless 
 plottings of the robbers are described in chap. i. 11-14. 
 The character of the men themselves is given in 
 iv. 16, 17: "They sleep not, except they have done 
 mischief; and their sleep is taken away, unless they 
 cause some to fall. For they eat the bread of wicked- 
 ness, and drink the wine of violence." The proverb 
 in xxiv. 15 is addressed to such an one: "Lay not 
 wait, O wicked man, against the habitation of the 
 righteous ; spoil not his resting-place." 
 
 The rebukes of the prophets — Isaiah, Micah, Jeremiah 
 — may have a wider application, but they seem at any 
 rate to include this highwayman's life. "Your hands 
 are full of blood " is the charge of Isaiah ; ^ and again, 
 " Their feet run to evil, and they make haste to shed 
 innocent blood ; their thoughts are thoughts of 
 iniquity." ^ " They build up Zion with blood," says 
 Micah indignantly.^ Jeremiah cries with still more 
 vehemence to his generation, "Also in thy skirts is 
 found the blood of the souls of the innocent poor ; " * 
 and again, '' But thine eyes and thine heart are not but 
 for thy covetousness, and for to shed innocent blood, 
 and for oppression, and for violence, to do it."^ 
 
 ' Isa. i. 15. ^ Micah iii. 10. Jer. xxii. 17. 
 
 "^ Isa. lix. 7. * Jer. ii. 34. 
 
ii. i2a-\6a.] WISDOM AS THE GUIDE OF CONDUCT. 27 
 
 We are to conceive, then, the young and active men 
 
 of the day constantly tempted to take these unhallowed 
 paths which seemed to promise wealth ; the sinners 
 were always ready to whisper in the ears of those 
 whose life was tedious and unattractive,^ *' Cast in 
 thy lot among us ; we will all have one purse." The 
 moral sense of the community was not sufficiently 
 developed to heartily condemn this life of iniquity ; as 
 in the eighteenth century among ourselves, so in Israel 
 when this book was written, there existed in the minds 
 of the people at large a lurking admiration for the bold 
 and dashing " gentlemen of the way." 
 
 The other special temptation of that day is described 
 in our book with remarkable realism, and there is no 
 false shame in exposing the paths of death into which it 
 leads. In v. 3-20 the subject is treated in the plainest 
 way : ^' Her latter end is bitter as wormwood, sharp 
 as a two-edged sword. Her feet go down to death ; 
 her steps take hold on Sheol." It is taken up agai.i 
 in vi. 24-35: "Can a man take fire in his bosom, 
 and his clothes not be burned ? or can one walk 
 upon hot coals, and his feet not be scorched ? " The 
 guilty man who has been betrayed by the glitter and 
 beauty, by the honeyed words and the soft entreaties, 
 "shall get wounds and dishonour, and his reproach 
 shall not be wiped away." 
 
 In chap. vii. 5-27 a most vivid picture is drawn 
 of the foolish youth seduced into evil ; there he is 
 seen going as an ox to the slaughter, as one in fetters, 
 '* till an arrow strike through his liver ; as a bird 
 hasteth to the snare, and knoweth not that it is for his 
 
 ' Prov. i. 14. Compare the proverb, xvi. 29, "A man of violence 
 enticeth his neighbour, and leadeth him in a way that is not good." 
 
28 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 life." And the Introduction closes with a delineation 
 of Folly, which is obviously meant as a counterpart 
 to the delineation of Wisdom in chap. i. 20, etc.^ The 
 miserable woman sits at the door of her house, on 
 a seat in the high places of the city ; with seductive 
 words she wins the foolish passers-by to enter her 
 doors : '* the dead are there ; her guests are in the 
 depths of Sheol." 
 
 It is a temptation which in many varying forms has 
 always beset human life. No small part of the danger 
 is that this evil, above all others, grows in silence, 
 and yet seems to be aggravated by publicity. The 
 preacher cannot speak plainly about it, and even writers 
 shrink from touching the subject. We can, however, be 
 thankful that the book, which is God's book rather 
 than man's, knows nothing of our false modesty and con- 
 ventional delicacy : it speaks out not only boldly, but 
 minutely; it is so explicit that no man who with a 
 prayerful heart will meditate upon its teachings need 
 fall into the pitfall — that pitfall which seems to grow 
 even more subtle and more seductive as civilization ad- 
 vances, and as the great cities absorb a larger proportion 
 of the population ; or if he fall he can only admit with 
 shame and remorse, " I have hated instruction, and my 
 heart despised reproof. Neither have I obeyed the 
 voice of my teachers, nor inclined mine ear to them 
 that instructed me. I was well-nigh in all evil in 
 the midst of the congregation and assembly." ^ 
 
 In the second place, we must try to look at these 
 temptations in the light of our own day, in order that 
 we may listen to the voice of wisdom, not in the anti- 
 
 * Prov. ix. 13-18. - Prov. v. 12-14. 
 
ii. i2a-\6a.] WISDOM AS THE GUIDE OE CONDUCT. 29 
 
 quarian, but rather in the practical spirit. The second 
 temptation exists amongst us almost unchanged, ex- 
 cept that the vast accumulation and concentration of 
 vice in great cities has provided that mournful band of 
 women whom a great moralist has designated the 
 Vestal Virgins of Humanity, consecrated to shame and 
 ruin in order to preserve unsulHed the sacred flame 
 of the domestic altar. The result of this terrible 
 development in evil is that the deadly sin has become 
 safer for the sinner, and in certain circles of society 
 has become recognized as at any rate a venial fault, if 
 not an innocent necessity. It is well to read these 
 chapters again with our eye on the modern evil, and 
 to let the voice of Wisdom instruct us that the life is 
 not the less blighted because the body remains un- 
 punished, and vice is not the less vicious because, 
 instead of ruining others for its gratification, it feeds 
 only on those who are already ruined. If the Wisdom 
 of the Old Testament is obscure on this point, the 
 Wisdom of the New Testament gives no uncertain 
 sound. Interpreting the doctrine of our book, as 
 Christians are bound to do, by the light of Christ, we 
 can be left in no doubt that to all forms of impurity 
 applies the one principle which is here applied to a 
 specific form : " He doeth it that would destroy his 
 own soul." ^* His own iniquities shall take the wicked, 
 and he shall be holden with the cords of his sin."^ 
 
 But with regard to the first of the two temptations, 
 it may be urged that in our settled and ordered society 
 it is no longer felt. We are not tempted to become 
 highwaymen, nor even to embark on the career of a 
 
 ' Prov. vi. 32 and v. 22. 
 
30 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 professional thief. We are disposed to skim lightly 
 over the warning, under the impression that it does 
 not in any way apply to us. But stop a moment ! 
 Wisdom spoke in the first instance direct to the vice of 
 her day, but she gave to her precepts a more general 
 colouring, which makes it applicable to all time, when 
 she said, ^' So are the ways of every one that is greedy 
 of gain ; it taketh away the life of the owners thereof." - 
 The specific form of greediness described in this first 
 chapter may have become obsolete among decent and 
 respectable people ; but that greed of gain which 
 showed itself then in a particular form is aUve to-day. 
 Dressed in a different garb, it presents temptations of a 
 slightly different order ; but the spirit is the same, the 
 issue, the fatal issue, is the same. It is a melancholy 
 fact that in the most progressive and civilized com- 
 munities the greed of gain, instead of dying out, 
 becomes aggravated, acquires a dominant influence, 
 and sways men as the master passion. The United 
 States, a country so bountiful to her children that a 
 settled peace might be supposed to pervade the life of 
 men who can never be in fear of losing the necessaries, 
 or even the comforts, of life, are inflamed with a fierce 
 and fiery passion. Society is one perpetual turmoil ; 
 fife is lived at the highest conceivable pressure, because 
 each individual is seeking to gain more and ever more. 
 In our own country, though society is less fluid, and 
 ancient custom checks the action of disturbing forces, 
 the passion for gain becomes every year a more exact- 
 ing tyranny over the lives of the people. We are 
 engaged in a pitiless warfare, which we dignify by the 
 
 ' Prov. i. 19. 
 
ii. I2a-i6a.] WISDOM AS THE GUIDE OF CONDUCT. 31 
 
 name of competition ; the race is to the swift, and the 
 battle to the strong. It becomes almost a recognized 
 principle that man is at liberty to prey upon his fellow 
 man. The Eternal Law of Wisdom declares that we 
 should treat others as we treat ourselves, and count 
 the interests of others dear as our own ; it teaches us 
 that we should show a tender consideration for the 
 weak, and be always ready, at whatever cost, to succour 
 the helpless. But competition says, " No; you must try 
 rather to beat the weak out of the field ; you must 
 leave no device untried to reduce the strength of the 
 strong, and to divert into your own hands the grist 
 which was going to your neighbour's mill." This 
 conflict between man and man is untempered by pity, 
 because it is supposed to be unavoidable as death itself. 
 In a community so constituted, where business has 
 fallen into such ways, while the strong may hold their 
 own with a clean hand, the weaker are tempted to 
 make up by cunning what they lack in strength, and 
 the weakest are ground as the nether millstone. The 
 pitilessness of ihe whole system is appalling, the more 
 so because it is accepted as necessary. 
 
 The Bandit life has here emerged in a new form. 
 " Come, let us lay wait for blood/' says the Sweater or 
 the Fogger, " let us lurk privily for the innocent without 
 cause ; let us swallow them up alive as Sheol, and 
 whole as those that go down into the pit." ^ The 
 Bandit is an outcast from society, and his hand is 
 turned against the rich. The Sweater is an outcast 
 
 ' A dog-chain sold in London at one shilling and threepence was 
 found to have cost, for materials twopence, for labour three-farthings. 
 (Evidence before Lord Dunraven's Commission on the Sweating 
 System). 
 
32 THEcBOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 from society, and his hand is turned against the poor. 
 By *' laying wait " he is able to demand, from weak 
 men, women, and children, the long hours of the day 
 for unceasing toil, and the bitter hours of the night for 
 hunger and cold, until the gaunt creatures, worn with 
 weariness and despair, find a solace in debauchery 
 or an unhallowed rest in death. 
 
 Now, though the temptation to become a sweater 
 may not affect many or any of us, I should like to ask, 
 Are there not certain trades or occupations, into which 
 some of us are tempted to enter, perfectly honeycombed 
 with questionable practices ? Under the pretext that 
 it is all ^'business," are not things done which can only 
 be described as preying upon the innocence or the 
 stupidity of our neighbours ? Sometimes the promise 
 is, " We shall find all precious substance, we shall fill 
 our houses with spoil. "^ Sometimes the simple object 
 is to escape starvation. But there is the miserable 
 temptation to sacrifice probity and honour, to stifle 
 compassion and thought, in order to bring into our 
 own coffers the coveted wealth. And is there not, I 
 ask, a similar temptation lurking in a thousand haunts 
 more or less respectable — a temptation which may be 
 described as the spirit of gambling ? The essence of 
 all gambling, whether it be called speculative business 
 or gaming, in stock and share markets or in betting 
 clubs and turf rings, is simply the attempt to trade on 
 the supposed ignorance or misfortune of others, and to 
 use superior knowledge or fortune for the purpose, not 
 of helping, but of robbing them. It may be said that 
 we do it in self-defence, and that others would do the 
 
 ' See Prov. i. 13. 
 
ii. I2a-i6a.] WISDOM AS THE: GUIDE OF CONDUCT. 33 
 
 same by us ; yes, just as the bandit says to the young 
 man, "We do not want to injure the traveller yonder ; 
 we want his purse. He will try to shoot you ; you only 
 shoot him in self-defence." It is the subtlety of all 
 gambling that constitutes its great danger. It seems to 
 turn on the principle that we may do what we like 
 with our own ; it forgets that its object is to get hold 
 of what belongs to others, not by honest work or 
 service rendered, but simply by cunning and deception. 
 
 It is, then, only too easy to recognize, in many varied 
 shapes of so-called business and of so-called pleasure, 
 " the ways of those who are greedy of gain." Wisdom 
 has need to cry aloud in our streets, in the chief place 
 of concourse, in the city, in exchanges and marts. 
 Her warning to the young man must be explicit and 
 solemn : " My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou 
 not." The bandit life still has its attractions, though its 
 methods are changed ; it plays upon the idle imagina- 
 tion : it promises freedom from laborious and distasteful 
 toil ; but it says nothing of the ways of death into 
 which it leads. 
 
 Now, in the third place, we come to the protest of 
 Divine Wisdom against these evil ways in which men 
 are tempted to walk. They are, she says, folly of the 
 most egregious kind. There may be an apparent 
 success or a momentary gratification ; " precious sub- 
 stance may be amassed, and houses may be filled with 
 spoil ; " but the people who are betrayed into these 
 wicked courses "shall be cut off from the land." ^ They 
 '* lay wait for their own blood ; " greed " taketh away 
 the life of the owner thereof ; " ^ and as for the strange 
 
 Prov. ii. 22, ^ Prov. i. 19. 
 
34 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 woman, that flattereth with her words, ^' none that go 
 unto her return again." ^ 
 
 It needs but a clear vision or a little wise reflection 
 to see the destructive tendency of Evil. It is the com- 
 monest fact of experience that where ^'vice goes before, 
 vengeance follows after." Why do men not perceive 
 it ? There is a kind of fatuity which blinds the eyes. 
 The empty-headed bird sees the net spread out before 
 its eyes ; ^^ many of its fellows have already been caught ; 
 the warning seems obvious enough, but it is all *' in 
 vain ; " eager to get the bait — the dainty morsel lying 
 there, easily obtainable — the foolish creature ap- 
 proaches, looks, argues that it is swifter and stronger 
 than its predecessors, who were but weaklings ! it 
 will wheel down, take the food, and be gone long 
 before the flaps of the net can spring together. In 
 the same way the empty-headed youth, warned by 
 the experience of elders and the tender entreaties of 
 father and mother, assured that these ways of unjust 
 gain are ways of ruin, is yet rash enough to enter 
 the snare in order to secure the coveted morsel. And 
 what is the issue ? Setting at nought all the counsel of 
 Wisdom, he would none of her reproof.^ A momentary 
 success led to wilder infatuation, and convinced him 
 that he was right, and Wisdom was wrong; but his 
 prosperity destroyed him. Soon in the shame of ex- 
 posure and the misery of remorse he discovers his 
 mistake. Or, worse still, no exposure comes; success 
 continues to his dying day, and he leaves his substance 
 to his heirs ; *' he eats of the fruits of his own way, and 
 is filled with his own devices,"* but none the less he 
 
 ' Prov. ii. 19. 3 prov. i. 25. 
 
 - Prov. i. 17. * Prov. i. 31, 32. 
 
ii. I2a-l6a.] 
 
 walks in the ways of darkness — in paths that are 
 crooked and perverse — and he is consumed with in- 
 ward misery. The soul within is hard, and dry, and 
 dead ; it is insensible to all feelings except feelings 
 of torture. It is a life so dark and wretched, that 
 when a sudden light is thrown upon its hidden secrets 
 men are filled with astonishment and dismay, that such 
 things could exist underneath that quiet surface. 
 
 Finally, note these two characteristics of the Divine 
 Wisdom : (i) she is found in her fulness only by 
 diligent seekers ; and (2) rejected, she turns into the 
 most scornful and implacable foe. 
 
 She is to be sought as silver or hidden treasure is 
 sought. The search must be inspired by that eager- 
 ness of desire and passion of resolve with which 
 avarice seeks for money. No faculty must be left un- 
 employed : the ear is to be inclined to catch the first 
 low sounds of wisdom ; the hearl is to be applied to 
 understand what is heard ; the very voice is to be lifted up 
 in earnest inquiry. It is a well-known fact that the 
 fear of the Lord and the knowledge of God are not 
 fruits which grow on every wayside bush, to be plucked 
 by every idle passer-by, to be dropped carelessly and 
 trodden under foot. Without seriousness and devotion, 
 without protracted and unflagging toil, the thmgs of 
 God are not to be attained. You must be up betimes ; 
 you must be on your knees early ; you must lay open 
 the book of Wisdom, pore over its pages, and diligently 
 turn its leaves, meditating on its sayings day and night. 
 The kingdom of God and His righteousness must be 
 sought, yes, and sought first, sought exclusively, as the 
 one important object of desire. That easy indifference, 
 that lazy optimism — " it will all come right in the end " 
 
36 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 — that habit of delay in deciding, that inclination to 
 postpone the eternal realities to vanishing shadows, 
 will be your ruin. The time may come when you will 
 call, and there will be no answer, when you will seek 
 diligently, but shall not find. Then in the day of your 
 calamity, when your fear cometh, what a smile of scorn 
 will seem to be on Wisdom's placid brow, and around 
 her eloquent lips ! what derision will seem to ring in 
 the well-remembered counsels which you rejected.^ O 
 tide in the affairs of men ! O tide in the affairs of God ! 
 We are called to stand by death-beds, to look into 
 anguished eyes which know that it is too late. The 
 bandit of commercial life passes into that penal servi- 
 tude which only death will end ; what agony breaks out 
 and hisses in his remorse ! The wretched victim of lust 
 passes from the house of his sin down the path which 
 inclines unto death ; how terrible is that visage which 
 just retains smirched traces that purity once was there ! 
 The voice rings down the doleful road, " If I had only 
 been wise, if I had given ear, wisdom might have 
 entered even into my heart, knowledge might have 
 been pleasant even to my soul ! " 
 
 And wisdom still cries to us, *' Turn you at my 
 reproof: behold, I will pour out my spirit unto you, 
 I will make known my words unto you." 
 
 ' Prov. i. 24-31. 
 
III. 
 
 THE EARTHLY REIVARDS OF WISDOM. 
 Prov. iii. I -10. 
 
 THE general teaching of these nine introductory 
 chapters is that the "ways of Wisdom are 
 pleasantness, and all her paths are peace." We are 
 taught to look for the fruit of righteousness in long life 
 and prosperity, for the penalty of sin in premature 
 destruction. *' The upright shall dwell in the land, and 
 the perfect shall remain in it. But the wicked shall be 
 cut off from the land, and they that deal treacherously 
 shall be rooted out of it." ^ The foolish " shall eat Oi 
 the fruit of their own way, and be filled with their own 
 devices. For the backsliding of the simple shall slay 
 them, and the prosperity of fools shall destroy them. 
 But whoso hearkeneth unto Wisdom shall dwell se- 
 curely, and shall be quiet without fear of evil." ^ " By 
 Wisdom thy days shall be multiplied, and the years ot 
 thy life shall be increased. If thou art wise, thou art 
 wise for thyself; and if thou scornest, thou alone shall 
 bear it." The ways of Folly have this legend written 
 over the entrance-gate : " The dead are there ; her 
 guests are in the depths of Sheol." ^ 
 
 This teaching is summarized in the passage before 
 
 ' Prov. ii. 21, 22. - Prov. i. 31-33. ' Prov. ix. 12, 18. 
 
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 us. " My son, forget not my law ; but let thine heart 
 keep my commandments : for length of days, and years 
 of life, and peace, shall they add to thee. Let not 
 mercy and truth," those primary requirements of wisdom, 
 " forsake thee : bind them about thy neck ; write them 
 upon the table of thy heart ; " i.e. let them be an orna- 
 ment which strikes the eye of the beholder, but also an 
 inward law which regulates the secret thought. " So 
 shalt thou find favour and good understanding in the 
 sight of God and man ; " that is to say, the charm of thy 
 character will conciliate the love of thy fellow creatures 
 and of thy God, while they recognize, and He approves, 
 the spiritual state from which these graces grow. 
 *' Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not 
 upon thine own understanding : ^ in all thy ways ac- 
 knowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths. Be not 
 wise in thine own eyes ; fear the Lord, and depart from 
 evil : it shall be health to thy navel, and marrow to thy 
 bones. Honour the Lord with thy substance, and with 
 the first-fruits of all thy increase : so shall thy barns be 
 filled with plenty, and thy vats shall overflow with new 
 wine." ^ 
 
 The rewards of wisdom, then, are health and long life, 
 the good-will of God and man, prosperity, and abun- 
 dant earthly possessions. As our Lord would put it, 
 they who leave house, or wife, or brethren, or parents, 
 or children, for the kingdom of God's sake, shall receive 
 manifold more in this time, even of the things which 
 they surrender, in addition to the everlasting life in the 
 time to come. ^ 
 
 * Cf. xxviii. 26, "He that trusteth in his own heart is a fool: but 
 whoso walketh wisely, he shall be delivered." 
 
 ^ Prov. iii. i-io. * Luke xviii. 29, 30. 
 
I- 10.] THE EARTHLY REWARDS OF WISDOM. 
 
 This is a side of truth which we frequently allow to 
 drop out of sight, in order to emphasize another side 
 which is considered more important. We are accus- 
 tomed to dwell on the promised joys of the future world 
 as if godliness had no promise of the life which now is, 
 and in so doing we take all life and colour from those 
 expected blessings. The true view seems to be, The 
 way of wisdom, the path of the upright, is so full of 
 joy, so crowned with peace ; the Hfe of the children of 
 the kingdom is so wisely and bountifully provided for ; 
 the inevitable pains and troubles which fall to their 
 share are so transformed ; that from this present good 
 we can infer a future better, gathering hints and pro- 
 mises of what we shall be from the realized felicity of 
 what we are. 
 
 If we try to estimate the temporal blessings of 
 wisdom we do not thereby deny the larger and more 
 lasting blessings which are to come ; while if we ignore 
 these present joyful results we deprive ourselves of the 
 surest evidence for the things which, though hoped for, 
 are not yet seen. 
 
 We may, then, with much advantage try to estimate 
 some of the immediate and apprehensible benefits of 
 the life which is lived according to the dictates of 
 heavenly wisdom. 
 
 (i) First of all, the right life is a wholesome life — 
 yes, physically healthy. Obedience to the eternal 
 moral laws brings "health to the navel," and that 
 peculiar brightness which is like the freshness of dew.^ 
 The body is a sacred trust, a temple of the Holy 
 
 * The Hebrew word "••IJ?!^ in iii. 86 is the same as that which is 
 translated " my drink " in Hosea ii. 6. The LXX. render it " marrow,' 
 but it means the moisture which in a natural and healthy state keeps 
 
40 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 Ghost ; to use it ill is to violate the trust and to defile 
 the temple. The temperance of habit and orderliness 
 of life which Wisdom requires of her children are the 
 first conditions of vitality. They who seek health as 
 the first consideration become valetudinarians and find 
 neither health nor happiness ; but they who diligently 
 follow the law of God and the impulse of His Spirit 
 find that health has come to them, as it were, by a side 
 wind. The peace of mind, the cheerfulness of temper, 
 the transfer of all anxiety from the human spirit to the 
 strong Spirit of God, are very favourable to longevity. 
 Insurance societies have made this discovery, and 
 actuaries will tell you that in a very literal way the 
 children of God possess the earth, while the wicked are 
 cut off. 
 
 Yet no one thinks of measuring life only by days 
 and years. To live long with the constant feeling that 
 life is not worth living, or to live long with the con- 
 stant apprehension of death, must be counted as a 
 small and empty life. Now, it is the chief blessedness 
 in the lot of the children of light that each day is a full, 
 rich day, unmarred by recollections, unshadowed by 
 apprehensions. Each day is distinctly worth living ; it 
 has its own exquisite lessons of cloud or sunshine, its 
 own beautiful revelations of love, and pity, and hope. 
 Time does not hang heavily on the hands, nor yet is its 
 hurried flight a cause of vain regret ; for it has accom- 
 plished that for which it was sent, and by staying longer 
 could not accomplish more. And if, after all, God has 
 appointed but a few years for His child's earthly life, that 
 is not to be regretted ; the only ground for sorrow would 
 
 the bones supple, as opposed to the dryness which is produced by 
 senility or disease. 
 
iii. i-io.] THE EARTHLY REWARDS OF WISDOM, 41 
 
 be to live longer than His wise love had decreed. " If 
 God thy death desires," as St. Genest says to Adrien in 
 Rotrou's tragedy, " life has been long enow." ^ 
 
 The life in God is undoubtedly a healthy life, nor is 
 it the less healthy because the outward man has to 
 decay, and mortality has to be swallowed up of life. 
 From the standpoint of the Proverbs this wider appli- 
 cation of the truth was not as yet visible. The problem 
 which emerges in th« book of Job was not yet solved. 
 But already, as I think we shall see, it was understood 
 that the actual and tangible rewards of righteousness 
 were of incomparable price, and made the prosperity of 
 the wicked look poor and delusive. 
 
 (2) But there is a second result of the right life 
 which oi*dinary observation and common sense may 
 estimate. Wisdom is very uncompromising in her 
 requirement of fair dealing between man and man. 
 She cannot away with those commercial practices which 
 can only be described as devising '' evil against thy 
 neighbour," who " dwelleth securely by thee."- Her 
 main economic principle is this, that all legitimate trade 
 is the mutual advantage of buyer and seller ; where the 
 seller is seeking to dupe the buyer, and the buyer is 
 seeking to rob the seller, trade ceases, and the trans- 
 action is the mere inworking of the devil. Wisdom is 
 quite aware that by these ways of the devil wealth may 
 be accumulated ; she is not blind to the fact that the 
 overreaching spirit of greed has its rich and splendid 
 reward; but she maintains none the less that "the 
 curse of the Lord is in the house of the wicked ; but 
 He blesseth the habitation of the righteous." ^ 
 
 ' Si ton Dieu vent ta mort, cest deja trop ve'cii. 
 2 Prov. iii. 29. ' Prov. iii. 33. 
 
42 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 It is a very impressive experience to enter the house 
 of a great magnate whose wealth has been obtained by 
 questionable means. The rooms are beautiful ; works 
 by the great masters shed their radiance of eternal 
 truth from the walls ; the library gleams with the well- 
 bound books of morahsts and religious teachers. The 
 sons and daughters of the house are fair and elegant ; 
 the smile of prosperity is in every curtained and car- 
 peted room, and seems to beam out of every illumi- 
 nated window ; and yet the sensitive spirit cannot be 
 rid of the idea that '^ the curse of the Lord is in the 
 house." 
 
 On the other hand, the honourable man whose paths 
 have been directed by the Lord, no matter whether he 
 be wealthy or merely in receipt, as the result of a life's 
 labour, of his 'Maily bread," has a blessing in his 
 house. Men trust him and honour him.-^ His wealth 
 flows as a fertilizing stream, or if it run dry, his friends, 
 who love him for himself, make him feel that it was a 
 good thing to lose it in order to find them. In propor- 
 tion as the fierce struggle of competition has made the 
 path of fair deahng more difficult, they who walk in it 
 are the more honoured and loved. Nowhere does 
 Wisdom smile more graciously or open her hand to 
 bless more abundantly, than in the later years of a 
 Hfe which has in its earher days been exposed, and 
 has offered a successful resistance, to the strong tempta- 
 tions of unrighteous gain. 
 
 (3) Further, Wisdom commands not only justice, but 
 generosity. She requires her children to yield the 
 first-fruits of all their possessions to the Lord, and to 
 
 ' Cf. xii. 8, *' A man shall be commended according to his wisdom : 
 but he that is of a perverse heart.shall'be despised." 
 
iii. i-io.] THE EARTHLY REWARDS OF WISDOM. 43 
 
 look tenderly upon His poor. " Withhold not good 
 from them to whom it is due, when it is in the power 
 of thine hand to do it. Say not unto thy neighbour, 
 Go, and come again, and to-morrow I will give ; when 
 thou hast it by thee." ^ And the teaching of experience 
 is that those who act upon this precept purchase to 
 themselves a good possession. The main value of the 
 Mammon of unrighteousness is, as our Lord says, to 
 make to ourselves friends with it, friends who shall 
 receive us into the everlasting habitations. The money 
 we spend upon our own pleasures, and to promote our 
 own interests, is spent and gone ; but the money given 
 with an open hand to those poor children of God, to 
 whom it is strictly due, is not spent at all, but laid up 
 in the most secure of banks. There is no source of joy 
 in this present world to be compared with the loving 
 gratitude of the poor whom you have lovingly helped. 
 Strangely enough, men will spend much to obtain a 
 title which carries no honour with it, forgetting that the 
 same money given to the needy and the suffering 
 purchases the true honour, which gives the noblest title. 
 For we are none of us so stupid as to think that the 
 empty admiration of the crowd is so rich in blessing as 
 the heartfelt love of the few. 
 
 But in enumerating these external results of right 
 living we have only touched incidentally upon the 
 deeper truths which lie at the root of it. It is time to 
 look at these. 
 
 God is necessarily so much to men, men are neces- 
 sarily so completely bereft without Him, that clear 
 vision and strong action are utterly impossible apart 
 from a humble dependence upon Him. The beginning 
 
 ' Prov. iii. 27, 28. 
 
44 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 of all wisdom is, as we have seen, in the recognition 
 of God, in personal submission to Him, in diligent 
 obedience to all His directions. This appears, before 
 we reflect, to be a mere truism ; when we have reflected, 
 it proves to be a great revelation. We do not at first 
 see what is meant by trusting in the Lord with all 
 our heart ; we confuse it with that tepid, conventional 
 relation to God which too frequently passes current for 
 faith. We do not readily apprehend what is implied 
 in acknowledging God in all our ways ; we suppose 
 that it only means a general professing and calling 
 ourselves Christians. Consequently, many of us who 
 believe that we trust in the Lord, yet lean habitually 
 and confidently upon our own understanding, and are 
 even proud of doing so ; we are wise in our own eyes 
 long after our folly has become apparent to every one 
 else ; we resent with a vehemence of righteous indigna- 
 tion any imputation upon the soundness of our judgment. 
 The very tone of mock humility in which we say, *^ I 
 
 may be wrong, but " shows that we are putting a 
 
 case which seems to us practically impossible. Con- 
 sequently, while we think that we are acknowledging 
 God in all our ways. He does not direct our paths ; 
 indeed, we never gave Him an opportunity. From first 
 to last we directed them ourselves. Let us frankly 
 acknowledge that we do not really believe in God's 
 detailed concern with the affairs of the individual life ; 
 that we do not, therefore, commit our way with an 
 absolute surrender into His hand ; that we do not think 
 of submitting to His disposal the choice of our profes- 
 sion, the choice of our partner in life, the choice of our 
 place of residence, the choice of our style of living, the 
 choice of our field of public service, the choice of our 
 
iii. i-io.] THE EARTHLY REWARDS OF WISDOM. 45 
 
 scale of giving. Let us confess that we settled all these 
 things in implicit and unquestioning reliance upon our 
 own understanding. 
 
 I speak only in wide and fully admitted generalities. 
 If Christians as a whole had really submitted their lives 
 in every detail to God, do you suppose that there would 
 be something like fifty thousand Christian ministers and 
 ten times that number of Christian workers at home, 
 while scarcely a twentieth of that number have gone 
 out from us to labour abroad ? If Christians had really 
 submitted their lives to God, would there have been 
 these innumerable wretched marriages — man and wife 
 joined together by no spiritual tie, but by the caprice 
 of fancy or the exigencies of social caste ? If Christians 
 had really asked God to guide them, meaning what they 
 said, would all the rich be found in districts together, 
 while all the poor are left to perish in other districts 
 apart ? If Christians had really accepted God's direc- 
 tion, would they be living in princely luxury while the 
 heathen world is crying for the bread of life ? would 
 they be spending their strength on personal aims while 
 the guidance of social and political affairs is left in the 
 hands of the self-interested ? would they be giving such 
 a fragment of their wealth to the direct service of the 
 Kingdom ©f God ? 
 
 We may answer very confidently that the life actually 
 being lived by the majority of Christian people is not 
 the result of God directing their paths, but simply comes 
 from leaning on their own understanding. And what 
 a sorrowful result ! 
 
 But in face of this apostasy of life and practice, we 
 can still joyfully point to the fact that they who do 
 entirely renounce their own judgment, who are small 
 
46 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 in their own eyes, and who, with their whole heart 
 trusting Him, acknowledge Him in all their ways, find 
 their lives running over with blessing, and become the 
 means of incalculable good to the world and to them- 
 selves. It would not be easy to make plain or even 
 credible, to those who have never trusted in God, how 
 this guidance and direction are given. Not by mira- 
 culous signs or visible interpositions, not by voices 
 speaking from heaven, nor even by messages from 
 human lips, but by ways no less distinct and infinitely 
 more authoritative, God guides men with His eye upon 
 them, tells them, " This is the way ; walk ye in it," and 
 whispers to them quite intelligibly when they turn to 
 the right hand or the left. With a noble universality of 
 language, this text says nothing of Urim or Thummim, 
 of oracle or seer, of prophet or book : " He shall direct 
 thy paths." ^ That is enough ; the method is left open 
 to the wisdom and love of Him who directs. There is 
 something even misleading in saying much about the 
 methods ; to set limits to God's revelations, as Gideon 
 did, is unworthy of the faith which has become aware 
 of God as the actual and living Reality, compared with 
 whom all other realities are but shadows. Our Lord 
 did not follow the guidance of His Father by a mechani- 
 cal method of signs, but by a more intimate and imme- 
 diate perception of His will. When Jesus promised 
 us the Spirit as an indwelling and abiding presence 
 He clearly intimated that the Christian life should be 
 maintained by the direct action of God upon the several 
 faculties of the mind, stimulating the memory, quicken- 
 ing the perception of truth, as well as working on the 
 conscience and opening the channels of prayer. When 
 
 * Prov. iii. 6. 
 
iii. i-io.] THE EARTHLY REWARDS OF WISDOM. 47 
 
 we wait for signs we show a defect of faith. True trust 
 ill our Heavenly Father rests in the absolute assurance 
 that He will make the path plain, and leave us in no 
 uncertainty about His will. To doubt that He speaks 
 inwardly and controls us, even when we are unconscious 
 of His control, is to doubt Him altogether. 
 
 When a few years have been passed in humble de- 
 pendence on God, it is then possible to look back and 
 see with astonishing clearness how real and decisive 
 the leadings of the Spirit have been. There were 
 moments when two alternatives were present, and we 
 were tempted to decide on the strength of our own 
 understanding ; but thanks be to His name, we com- 
 mitted it to Him. We stepped forward then in the 
 darkness ; we deserted the way which seemed most 
 attractive, and entered the narrow path which was 
 shrouded in mist. We knew He was leading us, but 
 we could not see. Now we see, and we cannot speak 
 our praise. Our life, we find, is all a plan of God, and 
 He conceals it from us, as if on purpose to evoke our 
 trust, and to secure that close and personal communion 
 which the uncertainty renders necessary. 
 
 Are you suspicious of the Inward Light, as it is 
 called ? Does it seem to open up endless possibilities 
 of self-delusion ? Are you disgusted with those who 
 follow their own wilful way, and seek a sanction for 
 it by calling it the leading of God ? You will find that 
 the error has arisen from not trusting the Lord " with 
 the whole heart," or from not acknowledging Him " in 
 all ways." The eye has not been single, and the 
 darkness therefore has been, as our Lord declares that 
 
 it would be, dense. ^ The remedy is not to be found 
 
 > 
 
 * Matt. vi. 22. 
 
48 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 in leaning more on our own understanding, but rather 
 in leaning less. Wisdom calls for a certain absolute- 
 ness in all our relations to God, a fearless, unreserved, 
 and constantly renewed submission of heart to Him. 
 Wisdom teaches that in His will is our peace, and that 
 His will is learnt by practical surrender to His ways 
 and commandments. 
 
 Now, is it not obvious that w^hile the external 
 results of wisdom are great and marked, this inward 
 result, which is the spring of them all, is more blessed 
 than any ? The laws which govern the universe are 
 the laws of God. The Stoic philosophy demanded a life 
 according to Nature. That is not enough, for by Nature 
 is meant God's will for the inanimate or non-moral 
 creation. Where there is freedom of the will, existence 
 must not be " according to Nature," but according to 
 God ; that is to say, life must be lived in obedience to 
 God's laws for human life. The inorganic world moves 
 in ordered response to God's will. We, as men, have 
 to choose ; we have to discover ; we have to interpret. 
 Woe to us if we choose amiss, for then we are undone. 
 Woe to us if we do not understand, but in a brutish 
 way follow the ordinances of death instead of the way 
 of life ! 
 
 Now, the supreme bliss of the heavenly wisdom is 
 that it leads us into this detailed obedience to the law 
 which is our life ; it sets us under the immediate and 
 unbroken control of God. Well may it be said, ^' Happy 
 is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth 
 understanding. For the merchandise of it is better than 
 the merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine 
 gold. She is more precious than rubies."^ And yet 
 
 Prov. iii. 13-15. 
 
iii. i-io.] THE EARTHLY REWARDS OF WISDOM. 49 
 
 rubies are very precious. I learn that the valley in Bur- 
 mah where the most perfect rubies in the world are found 
 is situated four thousand five hundred feet above the 
 sea level, in a range of mountainous spurs about eighty 
 miles due north of Mandalay ; but owing to the difficult 
 nature of the intervening ground, the valley can only 
 be reached by a circuitous journey of some two hundred 
 miles, which winds through malarious jungles and over 
 arduous mountain passes. An eminent jewellers' firm is 
 about to explore the Valley of Rubies, though it is quite 
 uncertain whether the stones may not be exhausted. 
 Wisdom is " more precious than rubies, and none of the 
 things thou canst desire are to be compared unto her." 
 To know the secret of the Lord, to walk in this 
 world not guideless, but led by the Lord of life, to 
 approach death itself not fearful, but in the hands of 
 that Infinite Love for whom death does not exist, 
 surely this is worth more than the gold and precious 
 stones which belong only to the earth and are earthy. 
 This wisdom is laden with riches which cannot be com- 
 puted in earthly treasures; "she is a tree of life to 
 them that lay hold upon her : and happy is every one 
 that retaineth her."^ The creation itself, in its vast 
 and infinite perfections, with all its aeonian changes, 
 and all the mysterious ministries which order its details 
 and maintain its activities, comes from that same 
 wisdom which controls the right human life. The 
 man, therefore, who is led in the ways of wisdom, 
 trusting wholly to God, is in harmony with that great 
 universe of which he forms an intelligent part : he may 
 lie down without being afraid ; he may walk securely 
 
 Prov. iii. 18. 
 
so THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 without stumbling ; no sudden fear can assail him ; all 
 the creatures of God are his sisters and his brothers ; 
 even Sister Death, as St. Francis used to say, is a 
 famihar and a friend to him. 
 
 We have been dwelling upon the outward results of 
 Heavenly Wisdom — the health, the prosperity, the 
 friends, the favour with God and man which come to 
 those who possess her. We have been led to seek out 
 the secret of her peace in the humble surrender of the 
 will to its rightful Lord. But there is a caution needed, 
 a truth which has already occurred to the author of 
 this chapter. It is evident that while Wisdom brings 
 in her hand riches and honour,^ health to the navel, 
 and marrow to the bones,^ it will not be enough to 
 judge only by appearances. As we have pondered 
 upon the law of Wisdom, we have become aware that 
 there may be an apparent health and prosperity, a 
 bevy of friends, and a loud-sounding fame which are 
 the gift not of Wisdom, but of some other power. It 
 will not do, therefore, to set these outward things 
 before our eyes as the object of desire ; it will not do 
 to envy the possessors of them.^ '^ The secret of the 
 Lord is with the upright," and it may often be that 
 they to whom His secret has become open will choose 
 the frowns of adversity rather than the smile of pros- 
 perity, will choose poverty rather than wealth, will 
 welcome soHtude and contumely down in the Valley of 
 Humiliation. For it is an open secret, in the sweet 
 light of wisdom it becomes a self-evident truth, that 
 " whom the Lord loveth He reproveth ; even as a father 
 the son in whom he delighteth." * 
 
 ' Prov. iii. 1 6. ^ Prov. iii. 31. 
 
 ' Prov. iii, 8, * Prov. iii. 12. 
 
iii. i-io.] THE EARTHLY REWARDS OF WISDOM. 51 
 
 There is, then, a certain paradox in the life of wisdom 
 which no ingenuity can avoid. Her ways are ways of 
 pleasantness, but we may not seek them because they 
 are pleasant, for other ways are pleasant too, or seem 
 to be so for a while. All her paths are peace, but we 
 do not enter them to gain peace, for the peace comes 
 often under the stress of a great conflict or in the 
 endurance of a heavy chastening. A thousand temporal 
 blessings accompany the entrance into the narrow way, 
 but so far from seeking them, it is well-nigh impossible 
 to start on the way unless we lose sight and care of 
 them altogether. The Divine Wisdom gives us these 
 blessings when we no longer set our hearts on them, 
 because while we set our hearts on them they are 
 dangerous to us. Putting the truth in the clearest 
 light which has been given to us, the light of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ, we are called upon to give up everything 
 in order to seek first the Kingdom of Heaven, and 
 when we are absorbed in that as our true object of 
 search everything is given back to us a hundredfold ; 
 we are called upon to take up our cross and follow 
 Him, and when we do so He bears the cross for us ; we 
 are called upon to take His yoke upon us and to learn 
 of Him, and immediately we take it — not before — we 
 find that it is easy. The wise, loving only wisdom, 
 find that they have inherited glory ; the fools, seeking 
 only promotion, find that they have achieved nothing 
 but shame. ^ 
 
 > Prov. iii. 35. 
 
IV. 
 
 EDUCATION: THE CHILD'S THOUGHT OF THE PARENT} 
 
 " Wisdom doth live with children round her knees." 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 " He taught me, and said unto me," etc, — Prov. iv. 4. 
 
 THIS chapter begins with a charming little piece of 
 autobiography. Unhappily the writer is unknown. 
 That it was not Solomon is plain from the fact that an 
 only son is speaking, and we know from i Chron. iii, 5 
 that Solomon was not an only son of his mother.^ But 
 the naivetd and beauty of the confession are the same, 
 whoever was the speaker. The grateful memories of 
 a father's teaching and of a mother's tenderness give 
 point and force to the exhortations. " Do I urge upon 
 you, young people, the claims of Wisdom ? " the author 
 seems to say. "Well I speak from experience. My 
 parents taught me her wholesome and pleasant ways. 
 Though I was an only son, they did not by a selfish 
 indulgence allow me to be spoiled. They made me 
 bear the yoke in my youth, and now I live to thank 
 them for it." 
 
 There is a great temptation to spoil an only child, a 
 
 'This subject, which occupies so large a part of the book, is further 
 treated in Lect. XXIII. 
 
 * It is noteworthy that the LXX. in ver. 2 seek to maintain the 
 Solomonic authorship by deliberately altering the words. 
 
iv.4.] EDUCATION. 53 
 
 temptation which few are able to resist. Parents can 
 deny themselves everything for their idol, except the 
 pleasure of making the child a despot ; they can endure 
 any pain for their despot, except the pain of resisting 
 him and instructing him. And accordingly they have 
 sometimes to experience the shame and anguish of their 
 children's curses, like that Carthaginian mother, of 
 whom it is related that her son, a convicted criminal, 
 passing to execution, requested that he might whisper 
 something to her, and, coming near, bit off her ear, saying 
 that it was his revenge because she had brought him up 
 so badly. Very different are the feelings of our author ; 
 he owes much to his parents, and is eager to acknow- 
 ledge what he owes. God has no kinder gift to give 
 us than a hallowed home, the memory of lessons from 
 the lips of father and mother, the early impressions of 
 virtue and wisdom, the sacred streams which rise from 
 that fountainhead, and that alone, and run freshening 
 and singing and broadening all through our lives.^ 
 
 With this happy example of good home influence 
 before our eyes, we will come to consider briefly two 
 points which are suggested by it : first, the importance 
 of these early impressions ; second, the main features of 
 the discipline presented in the chapter. 
 
 I. Not without reason has a great cardinal of the 
 Roman Church said that if he may have the children up 
 to the age of five, he will not mind in whose hand they 
 may be afterwards ; for it is almost impossible to ex- 
 aggerate the permanent effects of those first tendencies 
 impressed on the soul before the intellect is developed, 
 
 * Cf. the beautiful family picture of the linked and mutually blessed 
 generations in the proverb, "Children's children are the crown of old 
 men ; and the glory of children are their fathers " (xvii. 6). 
 
54 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 and while the soft, plastic nature of the child is not yet 
 determined in any particular direction. Things which 
 we learn we can more or less unlearn, but things which 
 are blended with the elements of our composition, made 
 parts of us before we are conscious of our own person- 
 ality, defy the hand of time and the power of conscious 
 effort to eradicate them. 
 
 John Paton, that noble missionary to the New 
 Hebrides, has given us a vivid picture of his early 
 home. It was a plain lowland cottage, with its " but 
 and ben," and between the two a small chamber with 
 a diminutive window shedding diminutive light on the 
 scene. To this room the children saw the father retire 
 oftentimes a day, and shut to the door ; they would 
 occasionally hear the pathetic pleadings of the voice that 
 prayed, and they learnt to slip past the door on tiptoe. 
 They got to understand whence came that happy light 
 upon their father's face ; they recognized it as a reflec- 
 tion from the Divine presence, in the consciousness of 
 which he lived. 
 
 Let a child draw his first breath in a house which 
 possesses a sanctuary like that ; let him come to know by 
 his quick childish perceptions that there is in his home a 
 ladder set up from earth to heaven, and that the angels 
 of God go up and down on it ; let him feel the Divine 
 atmosphere in his face, the air all suffused with heavenly 
 light, the sweetness and the calm which prevail in a 
 place where a constant communion is maintained, — and 
 in after years he will be aware of voices which call and 
 hands which reach out to him from his childhood, con- 
 necting him with heaven, and even the most convincing 
 negations of unbelief will be powerless to shake the 
 faith which is deep as the springs of his life. 
 
iv.4.] EDUCATION. 55 
 
 We learn to love, not because we are taught to 
 love, but by some contagious influence of example 
 or by some indescribable attraction of beauty. Our 
 first love to Wisdom, or, to use our modern phrase, 
 Religion, is won from us by living with those that love 
 her. She stole in upon us and captured us without 
 any overpowering arguments ; she was beautiful and 
 we felt that those whom we loved were constantly taken 
 and held by her beauty. Just reflect upon this subtle 
 and wonderful truth. If my infancy is spent among 
 those whose main thought is '' to get " riches, I acquire 
 imperceptibly the love of money. I cannot rationally 
 explain my love ; but it seems to me in after life a 
 truism, that money is the principal thing ; I look with 
 blank increduHty upon one who questions this ingrained 
 truth. But if in infancy I live with those whose love is 
 wholly centred upon Religion, who cherish her with 
 unaffected ardour and respond to her claims with kind- 
 ling emotion, I may in after life be seduced from her 
 holy ways for awhile, but I am always haunted by the 
 feeling that I have left my first love, I am restless 
 and uneasy until I can win back that " old bride-look 
 of earlier days." 
 
 Yes, that old bride-look — for religion may be so 
 presented to the child's heart as to appear for ever the 
 bride elect of the soul, from whose queenly love pro- 
 motion may be expected, whose sweet embraces bring 
 a dower of honour, whose beautiful fingers twine a 
 chaplet of grace for the head and set a crown of glory 
 on the brow.^ 
 
 The affections are elicited, and often permanently 
 
 ' Prov. iv. 8, 9. 
 
S6 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 fixed, before the understanding has come into play. If 
 the child's heart is surrendered to God, and moulded by 
 heavenly wisdom, the man will walk securely; a certain 
 trend will be given to all his thoughts ; a certain in- 
 stinctive desire for righteousness will be engrafted in his 
 nature ; and an instinctive aversion will lead him to 
 decline the way of the wicked.-^ 
 
 The first thing, then, is to give our children an 
 atmosphere to grow up in ; to cultivate their affections, 
 and set their hearts on the things eternal ; to make them 
 associate the ideas of wealth and honour, of beauty and 
 glory, not with material possessions, but with the 
 treasures and rewards of Wisdom. 
 
 II. But now comes the question. What is to be the 
 definite teaching of the child ? for it is an unfailing 
 mark of the parents who themselves are holy that they 
 are impelled to give clear and memorable instruction to 
 their children. And this is where the great and con- 
 stant difficulty emerges. If the hallowed example 
 would suffice we might count the task comparatively 
 easy. But some day the understanding will begin to 
 assert itself ; the desire to question, to criticise, to prove, 
 will awake. And then, unless the truths of the heart 
 have been applied to the conscience in such a way as to 
 satisfy the reason, there may come the desolate time 
 in which, while the habits of practical life remain pure, 
 and the unconscious influence of early training con- 
 tinues to be effective, the mind is shaken by doubt, 
 and the hope of the soul is shrouded in a murky 
 cloud. 
 
 Now the answer to this question may for the Chris- 
 
 ^ Prov. iv. 14. 
 
iv.4.] EDUCATION. 57 
 
 tian be briefly given, Bring your children to Christ, 
 teach them to recognize in Him their Saviour, and to 
 accept Ilim as their present Lord and gracious Friend. 
 But this all-inclusive answer will not suffer by a little 
 expansion on the lines which are laid down in the 
 chapter before us. When Christ is made unto us 
 Wisdom, the contents of Wisdom are not altered, they 
 are only brought within our reach and made effectual 
 in us. Bringing our children to Christ will not merely 
 consist in teaching them the doctrine of salvation, but 
 it will include showing them in detail what salvation is, 
 and the method of its realization. 
 
 The first object in the home life is to enable 
 children to realize what salvation is. It is easy to 
 dilate on an external heaven and hell, but it is not so 
 easy to demonstrate that salvation is an inward state, 
 resulting from a spiritual change. 
 
 It is very strange that Judaism should ever have 
 sunk into a formal religion of outward observance, 
 when its own Wisdom was so explicit on this point : 
 " My son, attend to my words ; incline thine ear unto 
 my sayings. Let them not depart from thine eyes ; 
 keep them /';/ the midst of thine heati. For they are 
 life unto those that find them, and health to all their 
 flesh. Keep thy heart with all diligence ; for out of it 
 are the issues of life." ^ The Greek version, which was 
 very generally used in our Lord's time, had a beautiful 
 variation of this last clause: "In order that thy 
 fountains may not fail thee, guard them in the heart." 
 It was after all but a new emphasis on the old teaching 
 of the book of Proverbs when Jesus taught the necessity 
 
 ' Prov. iv. 20-23. 
 
58 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 of heart purity, and when He showed that out of the 
 heart come forth evil thoughts, and all the things which 
 defile a man.^ Yet this lesson of inwardness has 
 always been the most difficult of all to learn. Chris- 
 tianity itself has always been declining from it and 
 falling into the easier but futile ways of externalism ; 
 and even Christian homes have usually failed in their 
 influence on the young chiefly because their religious 
 observances have fallen into formalism, and while the 
 outward conduct has been regulated, the inner springs 
 of action have not been touched. 
 
 All conduct is the outcome of hidden fountains. AH 
 words are the expression of thoughts. The first thing 
 and the main thing is that the hidden fountains of 
 thought and feeling be pure. The source of all our 
 trouble is the bitterness of heart, the envious feeling, the 
 sudden outbreak of corrupt desire. A merely outward 
 salvation would be of no avail ; a change of place, a 
 magic formula, a conventional pardon, could not touch 
 the root of the mischief. " I wish you would change 
 my heart," said the chief Sekomi to Livingstone, ^' Give 
 me medicine to change it, for it is proud, proud and 
 angry, angry always." He would not hear of the New 
 Testament way of changing the heart ; he wanted an 
 outward, mechanical way — and that way was not to 
 be found. The child at first thinks in the same way. 
 Heaven is a place to go to, not a state to be in. Hell 
 is an outward punishment to fly from, not an inward 
 condition of the soul. The child has to learn that 
 searching truth which Milton tried to teach, when he 
 described Satan in Paradise, — 
 
 Matt. XV. 19. 
 
iv.4.] EDUCATION. 59 
 
 "... within him hell 
 He brings, and round about him, nor from hell 
 One step, no more than from himself, can lly 
 By change of place. 
 
 " ' Which way I fly is hell,' 
 
 cries the miserable being, 
 
 ' myself am hell ; 
 And in the lowest deep, a lower deep, 
 Still threatening to devour me, opens wide, 
 To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven. * " ' 
 
 We are tempted in dealing with children to train them 
 only in outward habits, and to forget the inward sources 
 which are always gathering and forming ; hence we 
 often teach them to avoid the lie on the tongue, to put 
 away from them the froward mouth and perverse lips,^ 
 and yet leave them with the lies in the soul, the deep 
 inward un veracities which are their ruin. We often 
 succeed in bringing them up as respectable and decorous 
 members of society, and yet leave them a prey to 
 secret sins ; they are tormented by covetousness which 
 is idolatry, by impurity, and by all kinds of envious 
 and malignant passions. 
 
 There is something even ghastly in the very virtues 
 which are sometimes displayed in a highly civilised 
 society like ours. We perceive what appear to be 
 virtues, but we are haunted by an uncomfortable 
 
 ' Paradise Lost, iv. 20, etc., and 75, Cf. also ix. 120 : — 
 
 " And the more I see 
 Pleasures about me, so much more I feel 
 Torment within me, as from hateful siege 
 Of contraries. All good to me becomes 
 Bane, and in heaven much worse would be my state." 
 -' Prov. iv. 24. 
 
6o THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 misgiving that they are virtues only in appearance ; they 
 seem to have no connection with the heart ; they never 
 seem to bubble up from irrepressible fountains ; they 
 do not overflow. There is charity, but it is the charity 
 only of the subscription list ; there is pity, but it is the 
 pity only of conventional humanitarianism ; there is 
 the cold correctness of conduct, or the formal accuracy 
 of speech, but the purity seems to be prudery because 
 it is only a concession to the conventional sentiments 
 of the hour, and the truthfulness seems to be a lie 
 because its very exactness seems to come, not from 
 springs of truth, but only from an artificial habit. 
 
 We are frequently bound to notice a religion of a 
 similar kind. It is purely mimetic. It is explained on 
 the same principle as the assimilation of the colours of 
 animals to the colours of their environment. It is the 
 unconscious and hypocritical instinct of self-preservation 
 in a presumably religious society, where not to seem 
 religious would involve a loss of caste. It may be 
 regarded then as the first essential lesson which is to 
 be impressed on the mind of a child, — the lesson coming 
 next after the unconscious influences of example, and 
 before all dogmatic religious teaching, — that righteous- 
 ness is the condition of salvation, righteousness of the 
 heart ; that the outward seeming goes for nothing at 
 all, but that God with a clear and quiet eye gazes down 
 into the hidden depths, and considers whether the 
 fountains there are pure and perennial. 
 
 The second thing to be explained and enforced is 
 singleness oj heart, directness and consistency of aim ; 
 by which alone the inward life can be shaped to 
 virtuous ends : " Let thine eyes look right on, and let 
 thine eyelids look straight before thee. Make level the 
 
iv.4] EDUCATION. 6i 
 
 path of thy feet, and let all thy ways be established. 
 Turn not to the right hand nor to the left." ^ As our 
 Lord puts it, If thine eye be single, thy whole body 
 shall be full of light. This precept has frequently been 
 given in the interests of worldly wisdom. The boy is 
 told that if he means to get on he must concentrate 
 his thoughts and refuse to let any of the seductions 
 around him divert his attention. Singleness of eye 
 may be the most ruinous of evils — if a man has only a 
 single eye to his own advantage, and pursues nothing 
 but his own pleasure. The precept is given here 
 however in the interests of heavenly wisdom, and 
 there is much to be said for the view that only the 
 truly religious mind can be quite single-eyed. Selfish- 
 ness, though it seems to be an undivided aim, is really 
 a manifold of tumultuous and conflicting passions. He 
 onl}^, strictly speaking, has one desire, whose one 
 desire is God. The way of wisdom is after all the only 
 way which has no bifurcations. The man who has a 
 single eye to his own interest may find before long 
 that he has missed the way : he pushes eagerly on, 
 but he flounders ever deeper in the mire ; for though 
 he did not turn to the right hand nor to the left, he 
 never all the time removed his foot from evil.^ 
 
 The right life then is a steady progress undiverted 
 by the alluring sights and sounds which appeal to 
 the senses.^ '* Look not round about thee," says 
 Ecclesiasticus,'* "in the streets of the city, neither 
 
 ' Prov. iv. 25-27. 
 ' Prov. iv. 27. 
 
 ' Cf. xvii. 24, "Wisdom is before the'face of him that hath under- 
 standing ; but the eyes of a fool are in the ends of the earth." 
 * Ecclcs. ix. 7. 
 
62 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 wander thou in the solitary places thereof." We are 
 to learn that the way goes through Vanity Fair, but 
 admits of no divergences into its tempting booths or 
 down its alluring alleys ; the lust of the eye, the lust 
 of the flesh, the vainglory of life, are not to distract 
 the mind which has but one purpose in view. The 
 path is to be kept level ; ^ as we should say, an even 
 tenor is to be preserved ; we are to follow the plain 
 unexciting path of duty, the beaten track of sober 
 Tightness. For while it is the mark of all unhallowed 
 ways that they plunge up and down from despondency 
 to wild elation, from giddy raptures to heartstricken 
 depression, it is the sure sign of God's hand in our 
 life when the paths are made level. ^ Ah those tempt- 
 ing ways, on which shine the false lights of imagined 
 duty, of refined selfishness, or of gilded sensuality. 
 Surely it is the result of Wisdom, the gift of God's 
 grace, to keep the eyes '^ looking right on." 
 
 But it is time to sum up. Here is a great contrast 
 between those whose early training has been vicious 
 or neglected, and those who have been "taught in the 
 way of wisdom, led in paths of uprightness." It is a 
 contrast which should constantly be present to the 
 eyes of parents with a warning and an encouragement. 
 The unfortunate child whose infancy was passed in the 
 midst of baleful example, whose heart received no in- 
 struction from parents' lips, grows up like one stumbling 
 in the dark, and the darkness deepens as he advances ; 
 observers cannot tell — he himself cannot tell — what it 
 is at which he stumbles.^ There is the old ingrained 
 vice which comes out again and again after every 
 
 ' Prov. iv. 26. 2 Prov. v. 21. ^ Prov. iv. 19. 
 
iv.4.] EDUCATION. 63 
 
 attempted reformation ; there is the old shuffling 
 habit ; there is the old unhallowed set of the thoughts 
 and the tastes ; there is the old incurable pharisaism, 
 with its tendency to shift all blame on to other people's 
 shoulders. It is all like the damp in the walls of an 
 ill-built house. In dry weather there are only the 
 stains, but those stains are the prophecy of what will 
 be again when the wet weather returns. The corrupt 
 ways have become a second nature ; they are as sleep 
 and food to the wretched creature ; to abstain from 
 iniquity creates the restlessness of insomnia ; if he has 
 not been spreading an influence of evil and leading 
 others astray, he feels as if he had been deprived 
 of his daily food, and he is consumed with a fiery 
 thirst.^ Even when such an one is genuinely born 
 again, the old hideous habits will appear like seams 
 in the character ; and temptations will send the flush 
 along the tell-tale scars. 
 
 On the other hand, the life which starts from the 
 sweet examples of a hallowed home, and all its timely 
 chastisements and discipline, presents a most en- 
 trancing history. At first there is much which is 
 difficult to bear, much against which the flesh revolts. 
 The influences of purity are cold like the early dawn, 
 and the young child's spirit shrinks and shivers ; 
 but with every step along the levelled road the light 
 broadens and the air becomes warmer, — the dawn shines 
 more and more unto the perfect day.^ As the character 
 forms, as the habits become fixed, as the power of 
 resistance increases, a settled strength and a lasting 
 peace gladden the life. The rays of heavenly wisdom 
 
 ' Prov. iv. 16, 17. ^ Prov. iv. 18, margin. 
 
64 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 not only shine on the face, but suffuse the very texture 
 of the being, so that the whole body is full of light. 
 Eventually it begins to appear that truth and purity, 
 pity and charity, have become instinctive. Like a well- 
 discipHned army, they spring at once into the ranks, 
 and are ready for service even on a surprise. The 
 graces of holy living come welling up from those un- 
 tainted inner springs, and, be the surroundings ever so 
 dry, the fountains fail not. The habit of single-eyed 
 devotion to right avails even where there is no time 
 for reflection ; more and more the seductions of the 
 senses lose their point of attack in this disciphned 
 spirit. There is a freedom in the gait, for hoHness has 
 eeased to be a toilsome calculation, — the steps of the 
 spiritual man are not straitened. There is a swiftness 
 in all action, — the feet are shod with a joyous and 
 confident preparation, for the fear of stumbling is gone.^ 
 With daily growing gratitude and veneration does 
 such an one look back upon the early home of piety 
 and tenderness. 
 
 ' Prov. IV. 12. 
 
V. 
 
 THE WAYS AND ISSUES OF SIN. 
 
 "His own iniquities shall take the wicked, 
 And he shall be holden with the cords of his sin. 
 He shall die for lack of instruction ; 
 And in the greatness of his folly he shall go astray." 
 
 — Prov, v. 22, 23. 
 
 IT is the task of Wisdom, or, as we should say, of 
 the Christian teacher, — and a most distasteful task 
 it is, — to lay bare with an unsparing hand (i) the 
 fascinations of sin, and (2) the deadly entanglements 
 in which the sinner involves himself, — '' there is a way 
 which seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof 
 are the ways of death." ^ It would be pleasanter, no 
 doubt, to avoid the subject, or at least to be content with 
 a general caution and a general denunciation ; one is 
 tempted to take refuge in the opinion that to mention 
 evils of a certain kind with any particularity is likely 
 to suggest rather than to suppress, to aggravate rather 
 than to lessen, them. But Wisdom is not afraid of 
 plain speaking ; she sees that shame is the first result 
 of the Fall, and behind the modest veil of shame the 
 devil works bravely. There is a frankness and a 
 fulness in the delineations of this chapter and of chapter 
 
 ' Prov. xiv. 12. 
 
66 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 seven which modern taste would condemn ; but the 
 motive cannot be mistaken. HoHness describes the 
 ways of sin in detail to create a horror and a hatred 
 of them ; she describes exactly what is within the 
 tempting doors, — all the glamour, all the softness, all the 
 luxur}^, all the unhallowed raptures, — and shows dis- 
 tinctly how these chambers are on the incline of death, 
 in order that curiosity, the mother of prurience, may 
 be stifled, and the unwary may be content to remove 
 his way far from the temptress, and to come not nigh 
 the door of her house/ 
 
 But this, it may be said, is the plea urged by a 
 certain school of modern Realism in Art. Let us 
 depict — such is the argument — in all its hideous literal- 
 ness the sinful life, and leave it to work its own im- 
 pressions, and to act as a warning to those who are 
 entering on the seductive but dangerous ways. From 
 this principle — so it may be said — has sprung the 
 school of writers at whose head is M. Zola. Yes, but 
 to counteract vice by depicting it is so hazardous a 
 venture that none can do it successfully who is not 
 fortified in virtue himself, and constantly led, directed, 
 and restrained by the Holy Spirit of God. Just in 
 this point lies the great difference between the realism 
 of the Bible and the realism of the French novel. In 
 the first the didactic purpose is at once declared, and 
 the writer moves with swift precision through the 
 fascinating scene, to lift the curtain and show death 
 beyond ; in the last the motive is left doubtful, and 
 the writer moves slowly, observantly, even gloatingly, 
 through the abomination and the filth, without any 
 
 » Prov. V. 8. 
 
V.22, 23.] THE WAYS AND ISSUES OF SIN. 67 
 
 clear conception of the Divine Eye which watches, or 
 of the Divine Voice which condemns.^ 
 
 There is a corresponding difference in the effects of 
 the two. Few men could study these chapters in the 
 book of Proverbs without experiencing a healthy revolt 
 against the iniquity which is unveiled ; while few men 
 can read the works of modern realism without contract- 
 ing a certain contamination, without a dimming of the 
 moral sense and a weakening of the purer impulses. 
 
 We need not then complain that the powers of 
 imaginative description are summoned to heighten the 
 picture of the temptation, because the same powers are 
 used with constraining effect to paint the results of 
 yielding to it. We need not regret that the Temptress, 
 Mistress Folly, as she is called, is allowed to utter all 
 her blandishments in full, to weave her spells before 
 our eyes, because the voice of Wisdom is in this way 
 made more impressive and convincing. Pulpit in- 
 vectives against sin often lose half their terrible cogency 
 because we are too prudish to describe the sins which 
 we denounce. 
 
 I. The glamours of sin and the safeguard against 
 
 * The Laureate has touched with stern satire on this debased modern 
 Realism : — 
 
 "Author, atheist, essayist, novelist, realist, rhymester, play your part. 
 Paint the mortal shame of Nature with the living hues of Art. 
 Rip your brothers' vices open, strip your own foul passions bare, 
 Down with Reticence, down with Reverence — forward — naked — let 
 
 them stare ! 
 Feed the budding rose of boyhood with the drainage of your sewer. 
 Send the drain into the fountain lest the stream should issue pure. 
 Set the maiden fancies wallowing in the troughs of Zolaism, 
 Forvvard, forward, — aye and backward, downward too into the 
 abysm ! " 
 
 — The new Locksley Hall. 
 
68 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 them. — There is no sin which affords so vivid an 
 example of seductive attraction at the beginning, and 
 of hopeless misery at the end, as that of unlawful love. 
 The illustration which we generally prefer, that drawn 
 from the abuse of alcoholic drinks, occurs later on in 
 the book, at xxiii. 31, 32 ; but it is not so effectual for 
 the purpose, and we may be thankful that the Divine 
 Wisdom is not checked in its choice of matter by our 
 present-day notions of propriety. 
 
 There are two elements in the temptation : there is 
 the smooth and flattering speech, the outpouring of 
 compliment and pretended affection expressed in vii. 
 15, the subtle and enflaming suggestion that "stolen 
 waters are sweet ; " ^ and there is the beauty of form 
 enhanced by artful painting of the eyelids,^ and by 
 all those gratifications of the senses which melt the 
 manhood and undermine the resisting power of the 
 victim.^ In our own time we should have to add still 
 further elements of temptation, — sophistical arguments 
 and oracular utterances of a false science, which en- 
 courages men to do for health what appetite bids 
 them do for pleasure. 
 
 After all, this is but a type of all temptations to 
 sin. There are weak points in every character ; there 
 are places in every life where the descent is singularly 
 easy. A siren voice waylays us with soft words and 
 insinuating arguments ; gentle arms are thrown around 
 us, and dazzling visions occupy our eyes ; our con- 
 science seems to fade away in a mist of excited feeling ; 
 there is a sort of twilight in which shapes are un- 
 certain, and the imagination works mightily with the 
 
 .* Prov. ix. 17. 2 Prov. vi. 25. ' Prov. vii. 16, 17. 
 
V.22, 23.] THE WAYS AND ISSUES OF SIN. 69 
 
 obscure presentations of the senses. We are taken 
 unawares ; the weak point happens to be unguarded ; 
 the fatal byepath with its smooth descent is, as it 
 were, sprung upon us. 
 
 Now the safeguard against the specific sin before us 
 is presented in a true and whole-hearted marriage.^ 
 And the safeguard against all sin is equally to be 
 found in the complete and constant preoccupation of 
 the soul with the Divine Love. The author is very far 
 from indulging in allegory, — his thoughts are occupied 
 with a very definite and concrete evil, and a very 
 definite and concrete remedy ; but instinctively the 
 Christian ear detects a wider application, and the 
 Christian heart turns to that strange and exigent 
 demand made by its Lord, to hate father and mother, 
 and even all human ties, in order to concentrate on 
 Him an exclusive love and devotion. It is our method 
 to state a general truth and illustrate it with par- 
 ticular instances ; it is the method of a more primitive 
 wisdom to dwell upon a particular instance in such a 
 way as to suggest a general truth. Catching, there- 
 fore, involuntarily the deeper meanings of such a 
 thought, we notice that escape from the allurements of 
 the strange woman is secured by the inward concentra- 
 tion of a pure wedded love. In the permitted paths 
 of connubial intimacy and tenderness are to be found 
 raptures more sweet and abiding than those which are 
 vainly promised by the ways of sin. 
 
 " Here Love his golden shafts employs, here lights 
 His constant lamp, and waves his purple wings, 
 Reigns here and revels ; not in the bought smile 
 Of harlots, loveless, joyless, unendeared."- 
 
 • Pro v. V. 15-19. Paradise Lost. 
 
70 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 Forbidding to marry is a device of Satan ; anything 
 which tends to degrade or to desecrate marriage bears 
 on its face the mark of the Tempter. It is at our 
 peril that we invade the holy mystery, or brush 
 away from its precincts the radiant dews which reflect 
 the light of God. Nay, even the jest and the playful 
 teasing which the subject sometimes occasions are 
 painfully inappropriate and even offensive. We do ill 
 to smile at the mutual absorption and tender endear- 
 ments of the young married people ; we should do 
 better to pray that their love might grow daily more 
 absorbing and more tender. I would say to brides and 
 bridegrooms : Magnify the meaning of this sacred union 
 of yours ; try to understand its Divine symbolism. 
 Labour diligently to keep its mystical passion pure and 
 ardent and strong. Remember that love needs earnest, 
 humble, self-suppressing cultivation, and its bloom is 
 at first easily worn off by negligence or laziness. 
 Husbands, labour hard to make your assiduous and 
 loving care more manifest to your wives as years go 
 by. Wives, desire more to shine in the eyes of your 
 husbands, and to retain their passionate and chivalrous 
 admiration, than you did in the days of courtship. 
 
 Where marriage is held honourable, — a sacrament of 
 heavenly significance, — where it begins in a disinterested 
 love, grows in educational discipline, and matures in a 
 complete harmony, an absolute fusion of the wedded 
 souls, you have at once the best security against many 
 of the worst evils which desolate society, and the most 
 exquisite type of the brightest and loveliest spiritual 
 state which is promised to us in the world to come. 
 
 Our sacred writings glorify marriage, finding in it 
 more than any other wisdom or religion has found. 
 
v.22,23.] THE WAYS AND ISSUES OF SIN. 71 
 
 The Bible, depicting the seductions and fascinations 
 of sin, sets off against them the infinitely sweeter joys 
 and the infinitely more binding fascinations of this 
 condition which was created and appointed in the time 
 of man's innocence, and is still the readiest way of 
 bringing back the Paradise which is lost. 
 
 II. T/ie binding results of sin. — It is interesting to 
 compare with the teaching of this chapter the doctrine 
 of Karma in that religion of Buddha which was already 
 winning its victorious way in the far East at the time 
 when these introductory chapters were written. The 
 Buddha said in effect to his disciple, ''You are in 
 slavery to a tyrant set up by yourself. Your own 
 deeds, words, and thoughts, in the former and present 
 states of being, are your own avengers through a 
 countless series of lives. If you have been a murderer, 
 a thief, a liar, impure, a drunkard, you must pay the 
 penalty in your next birth, either in one of the hells, or 
 as an unclean animal, or as an evil spirit, or as a demon. 
 You cannot escape, and I am powerless to set you free. 
 Not in the heavens," so says the Dhammapada, "not 
 in the midst of the sea, not if thou hidest thyself in the 
 clefts of the mountains, wilt thou find a place where 
 thou canst escape the force of thy own evil actions." 
 
 " His own iniquities shall take the wicked, and he 
 shall be holden with the cords of his sin." This terrible 
 truth is illustrated with mournful emphasis in the sin 
 of the flesh which has been occupying our attention^ 
 a sin which can only be described as " taking fire 
 into the bosom or walking upon hot coals," with the 
 inevitable result that the clothes are burnt and the 
 feet are scorched.^ There are four miseries com- 
 
 ' Prov. vi. 27, 28. 
 
72 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 parable to four strong cords which bind the unhappy 
 transgressor. First of all, there is the shame. His 
 honour is given to others/ and his reproach shall not 
 be wiped away.^ The jealous rage of the offended 
 husband will accept no ransom, no expiation f with 
 relentless cruelty the avenger will expose to ruin and 
 death the hapless fool who has transgressed against 
 him. Secondly, there is the loss of wealth. The 
 ways of debauchery lead to absolute want, for the 
 debauchee, impelled by his tormenting passions, will 
 part with all his possessions in order to gratify his 
 appetites,* until, unnerved and ' feckless,' incapable of 
 any honest work, he is at his wits' end to obtain even 
 the necessaries of life.^ For the third binding cord of 
 the transgression is the loss of health ; the natural 
 powers decay, the flesh and the body are consumed 
 with loathsome disease.^ Yet this is not the worst. 
 Worse than all the rest is the bitter remorse, the 
 groaning and the despair at the end of the shortened 
 life. ^' How have I hated instruction, and my heart 
 despised reproof ! " ' " Going down to the chambers 
 of death," wise too late, the victim of his own sins 
 remembers with unspeakable agony the voice of his 
 teachers, the efforts of those who wished to instruct 
 him. 
 
 There is an inevitableness about it all, for life is not 
 lived at a hazard ; every path is clearly laid bare from 
 its first step to its last before the eyes of the Lord ; 
 the ups and downs which obscure the way for us 
 are all level to Him.^ Not by chance, therefore, but 
 
 * Prov. V. 9. < Prov. v. lo. ' Prov. v. 12-14. 
 
 * Prov. vi. 33. ^ Prov. vi. 26. * Prov. v. 21. 
 
 * Prov. vi. 34, 35. • Prov. v 11. 
 
v.22,23.] THE WAYS AND ISSUES OF SIN. 73 
 
 by the clearest interworking of cause and effect, these 
 fetters of sin grow upon the feet of the sinner, while 
 the ruined soul mourns in the latter days/ The reason 
 why Wisdom cries aloud, so urgently, so continually, 
 is that she is uttering eternal truths, laws which hold 
 in the spiritual world as surely as gravitation holds in 
 the natural world ; it is that she sees unhappy human 
 beings going astray in the greatness of their folly, 
 dying because they are without the instruction which 
 she offers.- 
 
 But now, to turn to the large truth which is illustrated 
 here by a particular instance, that our evil actions, 
 forming evil habits, working ill results on us and on 
 others, are themselves the means of our punishment. 
 
 " The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices 
 Make instruments to plague us." ^ 
 
 We do not rightly conceive God or Judgment or Hell 
 until we recognize that in spiritual and moral things 
 there is a binding law, which is no arbitrary decree of 
 God, but the essential constitution of His universe. 
 He does not punish, but sin punishes ; He does not 
 make hell, but sinners make it. As our Lord puts it, 
 the terrible thing about all sinning is that one may 
 become involved in an eternal sin.** It is by an in- 
 herent necessity that this results from a sin against 
 the Holy Spirit within us. 
 
 We cannot too frequently, or too solemnly, dwell 
 
 * It is, if we may say so, a maxim of modern science that "A sin 
 without punishment is as impossible, as complete a contradiction in 
 terms, as a cause without an effect " (W. R. Gregg). 
 
 '^ Prov. V. 23. 
 ' King Lear. 
 
 * Mark iii. 26. 
 
74 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 upon this startling fact. It is a fact established, not 
 by a doubtful text or two, nor by a mere ipse dixit of 
 authority, but by the widest possible observation of 
 life, by a concurrent witness of all teachers and all true 
 religions. No planetary movement, no recurrence of 
 the seasons, no chemical transformation, no physio- 
 logical growth, no axiom of mathematics, is established 
 on surer or more irrefutable grounds. Sin itself may 
 even be defined, from an induction of facts, as '' the 
 act of a human will which, being contrary to the Divine 
 Will, reacts with inevitable evil upon the agent." Sin 
 is a presumptuous attempt on the part of a human will 
 to disturb the irresistible order of the Divine Will, and 
 can only draw down upon itself those lightnings of the 
 Divine power, which otherwise would have flashed 
 through the heavens beautiful and beneficent. 
 
 Let us, then, try to impress upon our minds that, 
 not in the one sin of which we have been speaking 
 only, but in all sins alike, certain bands are being woven, 
 certain cords twisted, certain chains forged, which must 
 one day take and hold the sinner with galling stringency. 
 
 Every sin is preparing for us a band of shame to be 
 wound about our brows and tightened to the torture- 
 point. There are many gross and generally condemned 
 actions which when they are exposed bring their 
 immediate penalty. To be discovered in dishonourable 
 dealing, to have our hidden enormities brought into the 
 light of day, to forfeit by feeble vices a fair and dignified 
 position, will load a conscience which is not quite callous 
 with a burden of shame that makes life quite intolerable. 
 But there are many sins which do not entail this scorn- 
 ful censure of our fellows, sins with which they have a 
 secret sympathy. Tor, which //?^jV cherish an ill-disguised 
 
V. 22, 23.] THE IVA YS AND ISSUES OF SIN. 75 
 
 admiration, — the more heroic sins of daring ambition, 
 victorious selfishness, or proud defiance of God. None 
 the less these tolerated iniquities are weaving the 
 inevitable band of shame for the brow : we shall not 
 always be called on only to face our fellows, for we 
 are by our creation the sons of God, in whose image 
 we are made, and eventually we must confront the 
 children of Light, must look straight up into the face 
 of God, with these sins — venial as they were thought — 
 set in the light of His countenance. Then will the 
 guilty spirit burn with an indescribable and unbearable 
 shame, — " To hide my head ! To bury my eyes that 
 they may not see the rays of the Eternal Light," will 
 be its cry. May we not say with truth that the shame 
 which comes from the judgment of our fellows is the 
 most tolerable of the bands of shame ? 
 
 Again, every sin is preparing for us a loss of wealth, 
 of the only wealth which is really durable, the treasure 
 in the heavens ; every sin is capable of " bringing 
 a man to a piece of bread," ^ filching from him all the 
 food on which the spirit lives. It is too common a 
 sight to see a young spendthrift who has run through 
 his patrimony in a few years, who must pass through 
 the bankruptcy court, and who has burdened his estate 
 and his name with charges and reproaches from which 
 he can never again shake himself free. But that is 
 only a superficial illustration of a spiritual reality. 
 Every sin is the precursor of spiritual bankruptcy ; 
 it is setting one's hand to a bill which, when it comes 
 in, must break the wealthiest signatory. 
 
 That little sin of yours, trivial as it seems, — the mere 
 inadvertence, the light-hearted carelessness, the petty 
 
 ' Prov. vi. 26. 
 
76 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 spleen, the innocent romancing, the gradual hardening 
 of the heart, — is, if you would see it, like scratching 
 with a pen through and through a writing on a parch- 
 ment. What is this writing ? What is this parchment ? 
 It is a title-deed to an inheritance, the inheritance of 
 the saints in light. You are quietly erasing your name 
 from it and blotching its fair characters. When you 
 come to the day of account, you will show your claim, 
 and it will be illegible. *' What," you will say, " am 
 I to lose this great possession for this trifling scratch 
 of the pen ? " " Even so," says the Inexorable ; " it is 
 precisely in this way that the inheritance is lost ; not, 
 as a rule, by deliberate and reckless destruction of the 
 mighty treasure, but by the thoughtless triviality, the 
 indolent easifulness. See you, it is the work of your 
 own hand. His own iniquities shall take the wicked." 
 
 Again, every sin is the gradual undermining of the 
 health, not so much the body's, as the soul's health. 
 Those are, as it were, the slightest sins by which 
 " the flesh and the body are consumed." '' Who hath 
 wounds without cause ? Who hath redness of eyes ? " 
 Who is stricken and hurt and beaten, bitten as if 
 by an adder, stung as if by a serpent ? ^ It is the 
 victim of drink, and every feature shows how he is 
 holden by the cords of his sin. But there is one who 
 is drunk with the blood of his fellow-men, and has 
 thriven at the expense of the poor, who yet is temperate, 
 healthy, and strong. The disease of his soul does not 
 come to the light of day. None the less it is there. 
 The sanity of soul which alone can preserve the life 
 in the Eternal World and in the presence of God is 
 
 ' Prov. xxiii. 29, 32. 
 
v.22,23.] THE WAYS AND ISSUES OF SIN. 77 
 
 fatally disturbed by every sin. A virus enters the 
 spirit ; germs obtain a lodgment there. The days pass, 
 the years pass. The respected citizen, portly, rich, and 
 courted, goes at last in a good old age from the scene 
 of his prosperity here, — surely to a fairer home above ? 
 
 Alas, the soul if it were to come into those fadeless 
 mansions would be found smitten with a leprosy. This 
 is no superficial malady; through and through the whole 
 head is sick, the whole heart faint. Strange that men 
 never noticed it down there in the busy world. But 
 the fact is, it is the air of heaven ivliieh brings out these 
 suppressed disorders. And the diseased soul whispers, 
 " Take me out of this air, I beseech you, at all costs. 
 I must have change of climate. This atmosphere is 
 intolerable to me. I can only be well out of heaven." 
 " Poor spirit," murmur the angels, '' he says the truth ; 
 certainly he could not live here." 
 
 Finally, the worst chain forged in the furnace of sin 
 is Remorse : for no one can guarantee to the sinner 
 an eternal insensibility ; rather it seems quite unavoid- 
 able that some day he must awake, and standing 
 shamed before the eyes of his Maker, stripped of all 
 his possessions and hopelessly diseased in soul, must 
 recognize clearly what might have been and now 
 cannot be. Memory will be busy. " Ah ! that cursed 
 memory ! " he cries. It brings back all the gentle 
 pleadings of his mother in that pure home long ago ; it 
 brings back all his father's counsels ; it brings back the 
 words which were spoken from the pulpit, and all the 
 conversations with godly friends. He remembers how 
 he wavered — " Shall it be the strait and hallowed road, 
 or shall it be the broad road of destruction?" He 
 remembers all the pleas and counterpleas, and how 
 
78 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 with open eyes he chose the way which, as he saw, 
 went down to death. And now ? Now it is irrevocable. 
 He said he would take his luck, and he has taken it. 
 He said God would not punish a poor creature like 
 him. God does not punish him. No, there is God 
 making level all his paths now as of old. This punish- 
 ment is not God's ; it is his own. His own iniquities 
 have taken the wicked; lie is held with the cords of his 
 sin. 
 
 Here then is the plain, stern truth, — a law, not of 
 Nature only, but of the Universe. As you look into 
 a fact so solemn, so awful ; as the cadence of the 
 chapter closes, do you not seem to perceive with a new 
 clearness how men needed One who could take away 
 the sins of the world, One who could break those cruel 
 bonds which men have made for themselves ? 
 
VI. 
 
 CERTAIN EXAMPLES OF THE BINDING CHARACTER 
 OF OUR OWN ACTIONS. 
 
 "The surety . . . the sluggard . . . and the worthless person." — 
 Prov. vi. I, 6, 12. 
 
 FROM the solemn principle announced at the close 
 of the last chapter the teacher passes, almost 
 unconscious of the thought which determines his selec- 
 tion of subjects, to illustrate the truth by three examples, 
 — that of the Surety, that of the Sluggard, that of the 
 Worthless Man. And then, because the horrors of 
 impurity are the most striking and terrible instance of 
 all, this subject, coming up again at v. 20, like the dark 
 ground tone of the picture, finally runs into the long 
 and detailed description of chap. vii. 
 
 These three examples are full of interest, partly 
 because of the light they throw on the habits and moral 
 sentiments of the time in which this Introduction was 
 written, but chiefly because of the permanent teaching 
 which is luminous in them all, and especially in the 
 third. 
 
 We may spend a few minutes upon the first. The 
 young man finding his neighbour in monetary diffi- 
 culties, consents in an easy-going way to become his 
 surety; he enters into a solemn pledge with the creditor, 
 probably a Phcenician money-lender, that he will him- 
 
8o THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 self be responsible if the debtor is not prepared to pay 
 at the appointed time. He now stands committed ; he 
 is like a roe that is caught by the hunter, or a bird that 
 is held by the fowler, in the hand of his neighbour. 
 His peace of mind, and his welfare, depend no longer 
 upon himself, but upon the character, the weakness, the 
 caprice of another. This is a good illustration of the 
 way in which a thoughtless action may weave cruel 
 bands to bind the unwary. Looking at the matter from 
 this point of view, our book strongly and frequently 
 denounces the practice of suretiship. To become surety 
 for another shows that you are void of understanding. 
 So foolish is the action that it is compared to the sur- 
 render of one's own garments, and even to the loss of 
 personal freedom. A proverb declares : " He that is 
 surety for a stranger shall smart for it, but he that 
 hateth suretiship is sure." ^ 
 
 If then the young man has immeshed himself in 
 obligations of this kind, he is recommended to spare no 
 pains, not to stand upon a false pride, but to go with 
 all urgency, with frank abasement, to the man for whom 
 he has pledged his credit, and at all costs to get released 
 from the obligation. " Be thou not," says Wisdom, 
 *' one of them that strike hands, or of them that are 
 sureties for debts : if thou hast not wherewith to pay, 
 why should he take away thy bed from under thee ? " ^ 
 
 We feel at once that there is another side to the 
 question. There may be cases in which a true brother- 
 liness will require us to be surety for our friend. " An 
 honest man is surety for his neighbour, but he that is 
 
 ' See Prov. xvii. i8, xx. i6, repeated in xxvii. 13, and especially 
 xi. 15. 
 
 ^ Prov. xxii. 26, 27. 
 
vi. 1,6, 12.] BINDING CHARACTER OF ACTIONS. 8i 
 
 impudent will forsake him," says Ecclesiasticus. And 
 from another point of view an injunction has to be 
 given to one who has persuaded his friend to stand as 
 his surety, — " Forget not the friendship of thy surety, 
 for he hath given his life for thee. A sinner will 
 overthrow the good estate of his surety, and he that is 
 f an unthankful mind will leave him in danger that 
 delivered him." But confining ourselves to the stand- 
 point of the text, we may well raise a note of warning 
 against the whole practice. As Ecclesiasticus himself 
 says, "Suretiship hath undone many of good estate, and 
 shaken them as a wave of the sea : mighty men hath 
 it driven from their houses, so that they wandered 
 among strange nations. A wicked man transgressing 
 the commandments of the Lord shall fall into sureti- 
 ship." 1 
 
 We may say perhaps that the truly moral course in 
 these relations with our fellows lies here : if we can 
 afford to be a surety for our neighbour, we can clearly 
 afford to lend him the money ourselves. If we can- 
 not afford to lend it to him, then it is weak and fooHsh, 
 and may easily become wicked and criminal, to make 
 our peace of mind dependent on the action of a third 
 person, while in all probability it is hurtful to our friend 
 himself, because by consenting to divide the risks with 
 the actual creditor we tend to lessen in the debtor's 
 mind the full realization of his indebtedness, and thus 
 encourage him in shifty courses and unnerve his manly 
 sense of responsibility. The cases in which it is wise 
 as well as kind to become bail for another are so rare 
 that they may practically be ignored in this connection ; 
 
 ' Eccles. xxix. 14, 16, 17, 18, 19. 
 
82 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 and when these rare occasions occur they may safely 
 be left to the arbitrament of other principles of conduct 
 which in the present instance are out of view. Here 
 it is enough to emphasise what a miserable chain 
 thoughtlessness in the matter of suretiship may forge 
 for the thoughtless. 
 
 We may now pass to our second illustration, the 
 poverty and ruin which must eventually overtake the 
 Sluggard. *' I went by the field of the slothful, and by 
 the vineyard of the man void of understanding ; and, lo, 
 it was all grown over with thorns. The face thereof 
 was covered with nettles, and the stone wall thereof 
 was broken down. Then I beheld, and considered well: 
 I saw, and received instruction." ^ And there is the 
 lazy owner of this neglected farm murmuring, " Yet a 
 Httle sleep, a Httle slumber, a little folding of the hands 
 to sleep." There seem to be in every community a 
 certain number of people who can only be described as 
 constitutionally incapable : as children they are heavy 
 and phlegmatic ; at school they are always playing 
 truant, and exerting themselves, if at all, to escape 
 the irksome necessity of learning anything ; when they 
 em, / into life for themselves they have no notion of 
 honest effort and steady persistency, but directly their 
 employment becomes distasteful they quit it ; and at 
 length, when they end their days in the workhouse, or 
 in those shameful haunts of sin and vice to which sloth 
 so easily leads, they have the melancholy reflection to 
 take with them to the grave that they have proved 
 themselves an encumbrance of the earth, and can be 
 welcomed in no conceivable world. Now the question 
 
 ' Prov. xxiv. 30-34 ; see for a fullt^r treatm< nt of the subject 
 Lecture XX. 
 
1,6,12.] BINDING CHARACTER OF ACTIONS. 
 
 must force itself upon our attention, Might not these 
 incapables be rescued if they were taken young enough, 
 and taught by wholesome discipline and a wise education 
 what will be the inevitable issue of their lethargic 
 tendencies ? Might not the farm of the sluggard be 
 impressed on their very eyeballs as a perpetual and 
 effective warning ? 
 
 Leaving this important question to social reformers, 
 we may note how beautifully this book employs the 
 examples of insect life to teach and stimulate human 
 beings. " The ants are a people not strong. Yet they 
 provide their meat in summer. . . . The locusts have no 
 king. Yet go they forth all of them by bands." ^ " Go 
 to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her ways, and be 
 wise : which having no chief, overseer,^ or ruler, pro- 
 videth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food 
 in the harvest." ^ By this little touch the book of 
 Proverbs has turned the magnificent fields of modern 
 scientific observation, and all the astonishing revelations 
 of the microscope, into a school of moral and spiritual 
 discipline for human life. Thus the ants swarm in the 
 woods and the fields as if to rebuke the laziness and 
 thriftlessness of man. They work night and day ; they 
 store their galleries with food ; they capture and nourish 
 aphides, which they use as a kind of domestic cattle. 
 The vast and symmetrical mounds, which they rear as 
 habitations and barns, are, relatively to the size of the 
 builders, three or four times larger than the pyramids. 
 ,By what mysterious instinct those long lines of 
 
 ' Prov. XXX. 25-27. 
 
 ^ It is the word used in Exod. v. 6 of those who directed the tasks 
 of the Israelites in Egypt. 
 » Prov. vi. 6-8. 
 
84 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 labourers march and work in unison ; by what half- 
 human impulses they form in serried hosts and engage 
 in deadly battles prolonged through several days ; by 
 what ludicrous freaks they are led to imitate men, 
 spending their lives in pampered luxury, dependent 
 upon slaves, until at last in their helplessness they are 
 mastered by their bondservants in revolt ; by what 
 heavenly motive they are stirred to feed and nourish 
 and nurse one another in sickness and trouble, — we 
 need not here enquire, for we are only told to go to 
 the ant in order to learn her ways of ceaseless activity. 
 But in this brief precept we seem to receive a hint of 
 the boundless instruction and warning to be derived 
 from the humbler inhabitants of this earth which man 
 claims as his own. 
 
 Let us pass to the third illustration of the theme. 
 The surety is the victim of easygoing thoughtlessness, 
 the sluggard is the victim of laziness and incapacity ; 
 but now there appears on the scene the thoroughly 
 worthless character, the man of Belial, and after his 
 portrait is drawn in a few touches, his sudden and 
 hopeless ruin is announced in a way which is all the 
 more striking because the connection between the sin 
 and its punishment is left to be guessed rather than 
 explained.-^ The description of this person is wonder- 
 fully graphic and instructive, and we must dwell for 
 a moment on the details. We see him, not in repose, 
 but busy going from place to place, and talking a great 
 deal. His lips are shaped continually to lie, — "he 
 walketh with a froward mouth." There is no straight- 
 forwardness about him ; he is full of hint, suggestion, 
 
 * Prov. vi. 12-15. 
 
vi. 1,6, 12.] BINDING CHARACTER OF ACTIONS. 85 
 
 innuendo; he gives you always the idea that he has 
 an accomplice in the background ; he turns to you and 
 winks in a knowing way ; he has a habit of shuffling 
 with his feet, as if some evil spirit forbade him to stand 
 still ; you constantly catch him gesticulating ; he points 
 with his thumb over his shoulder, and nods significantly ; 
 he is never better pleased than when he can give the 
 impression of knowing a great deal more than he cares 
 to say. He delights to wrap himself in mystery — to 
 smile blandly and then relapse into a look of in- 
 scrutability — to frown severely and then assume an 
 air of gentle innocence. He is in the habit of beckoning 
 one into a corner, and making a whispered communi- 
 cation as if he were 3^our particular friend, as if he had 
 taken a fancy to you directly he saw you, and was there- 
 fore eager to give you some information which nothing 
 would induce him to divulge to anyone else ; if you 
 are foolish enough to share his confidences, he gives 
 you very soon, when others are standing by, a cunning 
 leer, as if to intimate that you and he are old acquaint- 
 ances, and are in the secret, which the rest do not 
 know.^ 
 
 The fact is that his heart is as deceitful as his lips ; 
 he cannot be true on any terms. If some simple and 
 open course occurred to his mind he would shun it 
 instinctively, because it is in devising evil that he lives 
 and moves and has his being. His friendliest ap- 
 proaches fill an honest man with misgiving, his words 
 of affection or admiration send a cold shudder through 
 one's frame. His face is a mask ; when it looks fair 
 you suspect villainy ; when it looks villainous, and then 
 
 * CJ. the proverb xvi, 30 — " He that shutteth his eyes, it is to devise 
 froward things : he that comprcsseth his hps bringcth evil to pass." 
 
86 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 only, you recognize that it is true. Wherever he goes 
 he makes mischief, he causes divisions ; he is the 
 lago of every play in which he takes a part, the Judas 
 of every society of which he is a member. He manages 
 to sow suspicion in the mind of the least suspicious, 
 and to cast a slur on the character of the most innocent. 
 When he has created discord between friends he is 
 delighted. If he sees them disposed to a reconcilia- 
 tion, he comes forward as a mediator and takes care 
 to exasperate the differences, and to make the breach 
 irreparable. Like Edmund in King Lear, he has a 
 genius for setting men at variance, and for so arranging 
 his plots that each party thinks he hears with his own 
 ears and sees with his own eyes the proof of the other's 
 perfidy. But, unlike Edmund, he does the mischief, 
 not for any special good to himself, but for the mere 
 delight of being an agent of evil. 
 
 It is this kind of man that is the pest of commerce. 
 He introduces dishonest practices into every business 
 that he touches. He makes it a principle that in 
 selling you are to impose on the customer, avail your- 
 self of his ignorance or prejudice or weakness, and 
 hide everything which might inchne him to draw back ; 
 w^hile in buying you are to use any fraud or panic or 
 misrepresentation which might induce the seller to 
 lower the price.^ When he has been in a business for 
 a httle while the whole concern becomes tainted, there 
 is a slime over everything ; the very atmosphere is fetid. 
 
 It is this kind of man that is the bane of every 
 social circle. In his presence, all simplicity and inno- 
 cence, all charity and forbearance and compassion, 
 
 * Cf. Prov. XX. 14 : " It is naught, it is naught, saith the buyer : but 
 when he is gone his way, then he boasteth." 
 
vi. 1,6, 12.] BINDING CHARACTER OF ACTIONS. 87 
 
 seem to wither away. If you are true and straight- 
 forward he manages to make you ridiculous ; under his 
 evil spell you seem a simpleton. All genial laughter 
 he turns into sardonic smiles and sneers ; all kindly 
 expressions he transforms into empty compliments 
 which are not devoid of a hidden venom. He is often 
 very witty, but his wit clings like an eating acid to 
 everything that is good and pure ; his tongue will lodge 
 a germ of putrescence in everything which it touches. 
 
 It is this kind of man that is the leaven of hypocrisy 
 and malice in the Christian Church ; he intrigues and 
 cabals. He sets the people against the minister and 
 stirs up the minister to suspect his people. He under- 
 takes religious work, because it is in that capacity he 
 can do most mischief. He is never better pleased than 
 when he can pose as the champion of orthodoxy, because 
 then he seems to be sheltered and approved by the 
 banner which he is defending. 
 
 " Therefore shall his calamity come suddenly." ^ It 
 is because the character is so incurably base, so 
 saturated with lies and insincerities, that there can be 
 no gradations or temperings in his punishment. One 
 who is less evil may be proved and tested with slight 
 troubles, if possibly he may be stirred to amendment. 
 But this utterly worthless person is quite unaffected 
 by the smaller trials, the tentative disciphnes of life. 
 He cannot be chastised as a son ; he can only be 
 broken as a vessel in which there is an intrinsic flaw ; 
 or as a building, which has got the plague in its very 
 mortar and plaster. 
 
 We are told that in Sierra Leone the white ants 
 
 * It is probably assumed that warnings and corrections have been 
 
88 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 will sometimes occupy a house, and eat their way into 
 all the woodwork, until every article in the house is 
 hollow, so that it will collapse into dust directly it is 
 touched. It is so with this deceitful character, so 
 honeycombed, and eaten through, that though for 
 years it may maintain its plausible appearance in the 
 world, few people even suspecting the extent of the 
 inward decay, on a sudden the end will come ; there 
 will be one touch of the finger of God, and the whole 
 ill-compacted, worm-devoured thing will crumble into 
 matchwood : " He shall be broken, and that without 
 remedy." 
 
 But while we are thus watching this worthless soul 
 overtaken with an inevitable calamity, we are reminded 
 that not only are our eyes upon him, but the Lord also 
 sees him. And to that calm and holy watcher of the 
 poor sinful creature there are six things which appear 
 specially hateful — seven which are an abomination of 
 His soul.^ Is there not a kind of comfort in the thought 
 that the Lord watches and knows the whole story of 
 that miserable life, not leaving it to us to condemn, but 
 taking upon Himself the whole responsibility ? He 
 knows whether there is a reason in nature for these 
 bad hearts ; He knows too what power outside of 
 nature can change and redeem them. But at present 
 we want only to mark and consider these seven 
 things which are abominable to God — the seven pro- 
 minent traits of the character which has just been 
 depicted. We seem to need some spiritual quickening, 
 
 given him in vain — cf. Prov. xxix. I : *' He that being often reproved 
 hardeneth his neck shall suddenly be broken, and that without 
 remedy." 
 
 * Prov. vi. 16-19. 
 
vi . 1 , 6, 1 2 . ] BINDING CHA RA CTER OF A C TIONS. 89 
 
 that we may observe these hateful things not only with 
 our own natural repugnance, but with something of the 
 holy hatred and the inward loathing which they produce 
 in the Divine mind. 
 
 1. Haughty eyes. " There is a generation, Oh how 
 lofty are their eyes ! And their eyelids are lifted up." ^ 
 And to that generation how many of us belong, and what 
 secret admiration do we cherish for it, even when we 
 can honestly disclaim any blood relationship ! That 
 haughty air of the great noble ; that sense of intrinsic 
 superiority ; that graciousness of manner which comes 
 from a feeling that no comparison can possibly be 
 instituted between the great man and his inferiors ; 
 that way of surveying the whole earth as if it were 
 one's private estate ; or that supreme satisfaction with 
 one's private estate as if it were the whole earth ! 
 This lofty pride, when its teeth are drawn so that it 
 cannot materially hurt the rest of mankind, is a subject 
 of mirth to us ; but to the Lord it is not, it is hateful 
 and abominable ; it ranks with the gross vices and the 
 worst sins ; it is the chief crime of Satan. 
 
 2. A lying tongue , though it " is but for a moment." ^ 
 It is the sure sign of God's intense hatred against 
 lies that they recoil on the head of the liar, and are 
 the harbingers of certain destruction. We disHke 
 lies because of their social inconvenience, and where 
 some social convenience is served by them we con- 
 nive at them and approve. But God hates the lying 
 tongue, whatever apparent advantage comes from it. 
 If we lie for personal gain He hates it. If we lie from 
 
 • Pro V. XXX. 13. See Lecture XIII. for the teaching of the Proverbs 
 on Pride. 
 
 '^ Prov. xii. 19. 
 
90 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS, 
 
 mere weakness, He hates it. If we lie in the name 
 of reHgion, and in the fashion of the Jesuit, for the 
 welfare of men and the salvation of souls, He hates 
 it none the less. The abomination does 'not consist 
 in the motive of the lie, but in the lie itself. 
 
 3. Hands that shed innocent blood. So hateful are 
 they to Him that He could not let David His chosen 
 servant build Him a house because this charge could 
 be laid against the great king. The soldier in the 
 battle-field hewing down the man who is innocent, 
 and the man who in carelessness or greed is wearing 
 the poor, who are dependent on him, down to death, 
 and the man who in a passion rises up and murders 
 his fellow, — these are very hateful to the Lord. There 
 at the beginning of the world's history, in the blood 
 of righteous Abel crying to the Lord, and in the mark 
 set on the guilty brow of Cain, the heart of God was 
 clearly and finally shown. He has not changed. He 
 does not shed innocent blood Himself; He cannot 
 away with them that shed it. 
 
 4. Hateful too to Him is the devising heart, even 
 where courage or opportunity fails of realizing the 
 device. There are so many more murderers in the 
 world than we see, so many cruel and wicked deeds 
 restrained by the police or by a dominant public 
 sentiment, which yet lie deep in the wicked imagina- 
 tions of our hearts, and are abominable to God, 
 that we may be thankful if we do. not see as He sees, 
 and'may wonder at the forbearance of His compassion. 
 
 5. Feet that be swift in running to mischief. Feet list- 
 less in the ways of brotherly service or holy worship, 
 but swift, twinkling with eager haste, when any mischief 
 is toward, are marked by God — and hated. 
 
vi. 1,6, 12.] BINDING CHARACTER OF ACTIONS. 91 
 
 6. And a false witness is abominable to Him, the 
 poisoner of all social life, the destroyer of all justice 
 between man and man. Again and again in this book 
 is censure passed upon this unpardonable crime. ^ 
 
 7. Finally, as the blessing of Heaven descends on the 
 peacemaker, so the hatred of God assails the man who 
 sows discord aiiioiig brethren. 
 
 Such is the character that God abominates, the 
 character which binds itself with cords of penalty and 
 falls into irretrievable ruin. And then, after this dis- 
 quisition on some of the vices which destroy the 
 individual life and disturb society, our author turns 
 again to that snaring vice which is so much the more 
 destructive because it comes under the guise, not of 
 hate, but of love. Those other vices after all bear their 
 evil on their faces, but this is veiled and enchanted 
 with a thousand plausible sophistries ; it pleads the 
 instincts of nature, the fascinations of beauty, the 
 faults of the present social state, and even advances 
 the august precepts of science. Surely in a way where 
 such a danger lurks we need a commandment which 
 will shine as a lamp, a law which will be itself a 
 light (ver. 23). 
 
 * See Prov. xii. 17 ; xiv. 5, 25 ; xix. 5, 9. A crime, it may be re- 
 membered, which would be much more common and much more fatal 
 in a primitive state of society, where on the one hand legal procedure 
 was less cautious and less searching, and on the other hand the 
 inward sanctions of truth which Christianity has brought home to 
 the modern conscience were but feebly perceived. 
 
VII. 
 
 REALISM IN MORAL TEACHING. 
 "I looked forth through my lattice; and I beheld." — Prov. vii. 6. 
 
 THE three chapters which close the introduction 
 of our book (vii.-ix.) present a Hvely and pictur- 
 esque contrast between Folly and Wisdom — Folly more 
 especially in the form of vice ; Wisdom more generally 
 in her highest and most universal intention. Folly is 
 throughout concrete, an actual woman, pourtrayed with 
 such correctness of detail that she is felt as a personal 
 force. Wisdom, on the other hand, is only personified ; 
 she is an abstract conception ; she speaks with human 
 lips in order to carry out the parallel, but she is not a 
 human being, known to the writer. As we shall see in 
 the next Lecture, this high Wisdom never took a human 
 shape until the Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ ; 
 Folly, unhappily, had become incarnate in myriads of 
 instances ; scarcely any city or place where men con- 
 gregate was, or is, without its melancholy example. It 
 follows from this difference between the two that the 
 picture of Folly is a piece of vigorous realism, while 
 the account of Wisdom is a piece of delicate idealism. 
 Folly is historical. Wisdom is prophetic. In this 
 chapter we are concerned with facts which the author 
 witnessed from the window of his house looking forth 
 
vii.6.] REALISM IN MORAL TEACHING. 93 
 
 through the lattice.^ In the next chapter we shall 
 touch on ideas which he had not seen, and could not 
 have seen unless it were in lofty vision looking out 
 through the lattice of the soul. In the present chapter 
 w^e have an opportunity of noticing the immense value 
 and power of pictorial delineation and concrete images 
 in moral teaching ; in the next we shall experience the 
 peculiar fascination and inspiration of beautiful abstract 
 conceptions, of disembodied ideals which, so far as we 
 know at the time, are not capable of actual realization. 
 
 It is important to remember this difference in order 
 to understand why Wisdom, the shadowy contrast to 
 that Mistress Folly who was only too concrete and 
 familiar, shaped itself to the writer's mind as a fair and 
 stately woman, a queenly hostess inviting simple ones 
 to her feast ; though, as Christians have learnt, the 
 historical embodiment of Wisdom was a man, the Word 
 of God, who of God was made unto us wisdom. 
 
 Now before we take our stand at the window and 
 look through the lattice into the street, we must notice 
 the exhortations to the young man to make wisdom 
 and understanding his intimate friends, with which the 
 chapter begins. The law is to be kept as the apple of 
 the eye, which is so sensitive, so tender, and at the 
 same time so surpassingly important, that the lid has to 
 shield it by a quick instinctive movement outrunning 
 thought, and the hand has to be ready at all times to 
 come to its succour. The commandments are to be 
 written on the fingers, like engraved rings, which would 
 serve as instant reminders in unwary moments ; the 
 very instruments through which the evil would be 
 done are to be claimed and sealed and inscribed by the 
 
 ' Prov. vii. 6. 
 
94 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 righteousness which can preserve from evil, while in 
 the secret tablets of the heart the holy truths are to be 
 
 written ; so that if, in the business of life, the writing 
 on the fingers may get blurred or effaced, the principles 
 of righteousness may yet be kept like priceless archives 
 stored in the inviolable chambers of the inner man. 
 Wisdom is to be treated as a sister,^ not as if there 
 were a natural kinship, but on the ground of the 
 beautiful influence which a true sister, a pure woman 
 soul, exercises over a young man's life. It is given 
 to a sister again and again, by unfailing sympathy and 
 by sweet comprehending ways, not teasing nor lecturing, 
 but always believing and hoping and loving, to weave a 
 magical spell of goodness and truth around a brother 
 who is exposed to dangerous temptations ; she will 
 " maintain for him a saving intercourse with his true 
 self;" when the fires of more ardent affections are 
 burning low, or extinguished in doubt or disgust, she 
 will be with him like a calm impersonal presence, 
 unobtrusive, unforgotten, the more potent because she 
 makes no show of power. Such a lovely fraternal re- 
 lation is to be maintained with Wisdom, constant as 
 a tie of blood, firm as a companionship from earliest 
 infancy, yet exalted and enthusiastic in its way, and 
 promising a lifelong attraction and authority. 
 
 This blessed kinship with Understanding should save 
 the young man from such a fate as we are now to 
 contemplate. 
 
 It is twilight, not yet absolutely dark, but the shudder- 
 ing horror of the scene seems to quench the doubtful 
 ghmmer of evening and to plunge the observer sud- 
 denly into midnight.^ There is a young man coming 
 
 ' Prov. vii. 4. 2 Prov. vii. 9. 
 
vii.6.] REALISM IN MORAL TEACHING. 95 
 
 round the corner of the street. His is no manly 
 walk, but an idle, effeminate saunter — a detail which 
 is not brought out in the English Version.' He is a 
 dandy and sadly empty-headed. Now all young men, 
 good and bad alike, pass through a period of dandyism, 
 and it has its uses ; but the better the stuff of which the 
 man is made, the more quickly he gets over the crisis, 
 and returns to his senses. This young man is " void 
 of understanding ; " his dandyism will be chronic. His 
 is a feeble will and a prurient mind ; but his special 
 weakness consists in this, that he thinks he can always 
 resist temptation, and therefore never hesitates to thrust 
 himself in its way. It is as if one were to pride himself 
 on being able to hang on with his fingers to the rim 
 of a well : he is always hanging there, and a touch will 
 send him in. One who is in his own opinion weaker 
 would give the dangerous place a wide berth, and 
 nothing but sheer force would bring him to the edge. 
 This young dandy has nothing to say for himself. 
 A tempter need not be at the trouble to bring any 
 sound arguments, or to make the worse appear the 
 better reason ; to this poor weakling the worse the 
 reason is the better it will appear. As you see him 
 lolling dovvn the path with his leering look and his 
 infinite self-satisfaction — good-natured, but without any 
 other goodness ; not with bad intentions, but with 
 everything else bad — you can foresee that he will be 
 
 ' Prov. vii, 8. The term lyV describes a special kind of motion, 
 e.g., the slow pacing of the oxen that bare the ark (2 Sam. vi. 15), or 
 the imagined efforts of idols to move (Jer. x. 5) ; it is therefore 
 unfortunate to render it by the generic word "go." The affected 
 dignity and sauntering insouciance of a dandy are immediately sug- 
 gested by it, and the shade of meaning is fairly well preserved in the 
 English "saunter." 
 
96 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 blown over as easily as a pleasure skiff on a stormy 
 ocean ; if you have a compassionate heart you mourn 
 over him at once, for you see the inevitable. 
 
 The woman has come out to meet him — like a bird- 
 catcher who has been watching for the unwary bird. 
 Now he should escape at once, for her very attire warns 
 him of her intentions. But this is just his weakness; 
 he delights to place himself in such a position ; he 
 would say that it is the proof of his manliness that 
 he can resist. She approaches him with a smirk and 
 a smile, with an open countenance but a closed heart. 
 She utters a sound, moving and pathetic like the 
 murmur of harp-strings;^ it comes from that inward 
 tumult of passion in the woman's nature which always 
 flutters the heart of a weak youth. ^ She is a wild 
 undisciplined creature; she always hankers after the 
 forbidden ; the quiet home ways are insufferable to her; 
 out in the streets, with their excitement, their variety, 
 their suggestions, their possibilities, she forgets, if she 
 does not quiet, her restlessness. The poor woman- 
 nature which, rightly taught and trained, might make the 
 beauty and sweetness of a home, capable of sanctified 
 affections and of self-sacrificing devotion, is here entirely 
 perverted. The passion is poisoned and now poisonous. 
 The energy is diseased. The charms are all spurious. 
 She goes abroad in the blackness of night because in 
 even a faint light her hideousness would appear ; under 
 the paint and the finery she is a hag; her eyes are 
 lustreless but for the temporary fire of her corruptions ; 
 behind that voice which croons and ripples there is a 
 subdued moan of despair — the jarring of harp-strings 
 
 * This is the meaning of the word translated ' clamorous.' 
 
 ^ So says the Greek version of ver. 10 : fj Trote? vidiv i^lirTaadai Kapdias. 
 
vii.6.] REAIJSM IN MORAL TEACHING. 97 
 
 which snap and quiver and shudder and are silent for 
 ever. The wise man looks at her with compassionate 
 loathing, God with pity which yearns to save ; but this 
 foolish youth is moved by her as only a fool could be 
 moved. His weak understanding is immediately over- 
 come by her flatteries ; his polluted heart does not 
 perceive the poison of her heartless endearments. 
 
 She throws her arms round him and kisses him, and 
 he makes no question that it is a tribute to the personal 
 attractions which he has himself often admired in his 
 mirror. She would have him believe that it was he 
 whom she had come out specially to seek, though it 
 would have been just the same whoever had caught 
 her eye ; and he, deceived by his own vanity, at once 
 believes her. She has a great deal to say ; she does 
 not rely on one inducement, for she does not know 
 with whom she has to do ; she pours out therefore all 
 her allurements in succession without stopping to take 
 breath. 
 
 First, she holds out the prospect of a good meal. 
 She has abundant meat in the house, which comes from 
 the sacrifice she has just been offering, and it must be 
 eaten by the next day, according to the commandment 
 of the Law.^ Or if he is not one to be attracted merely 
 by food, she has appeals to his aesthetic side ; her 
 furniture is rich and artistic, and her chamber is per- 
 fumed with sweet spices. She perceives perhaps by 
 now what a weak, faint-hearted creature, enervated by 
 vice, unmanly and nervous, she has to do with, and 
 she hastens to assure him that his precious skin will 
 be safe. Her goodman is not at home, and his absence 
 
 ' See Lev. vii. 16. 
 
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 will be prolonged ; he took money with him for a long 
 journey, and she knows the date of his return. The 
 foolish youth need not fear, therefore, ^' that jealousy 
 which is the rage of a man ; " he will not have to offer 
 gifts and ransom to the implacable husband, because 
 his deed will never be known. How hollow it all 
 sounds, and how suspicious ; surely one who had a 
 grain of understanding would answer with manly scorn 
 and with kindling indignation. But our poor young 
 fool, who was so confident of himself, yields without a 
 struggle ; with her mere talk, playing upon his vanity, 
 she bends him as if he were a water- weed in a stream — 
 her appeals to his self-admiration drive him forth as 
 easily as the goads urge an ox to the slaughter- 
 house. 
 
 And now you may watch him going after her to 
 destruction ! 
 
 Is there not a pathos in the sight of an ox going to 
 the slaughter ? The poor dumb creature is lured by 
 the offer of food or driven by the lash of the driver. 
 It enters the slaughter-house as if it were a stall for 
 rest and refreshment ; it has no idea that '' it is for its 
 life." The butcher knows ; the bystanders understand 
 the signs; but it is perfectly insensible, taking a 
 transitory pleasure in the unwonted attentions which 
 are really the portents of death. It is not endeared to 
 us by any special interest or affection ; the dull, stupid 
 life has never come into any close connection with ours. 
 It has never been to us like a favourite dog, or a pet 
 bird that has cheered our solitary hours. It gave us 
 no response when we spoke to it or stroked its sleek 
 hide. It was merely an animal. But yet it moves our 
 pity at this supreme moment of its life ; we do not like 
 
vii.6.] REALISM IN MORAL TEACHING. 99 
 
 to think of the heavy blow which will soon lay the 
 great slow-pacing form prostrate and still in death. 
 
 Here is an ox going to the slaughter, — but it is a 
 fellow-man, a young man, not meant for ignominious 
 death, capable of a good and noble life. The poor 
 degraded woman who lures him to his ruin has no such 
 motive of serviceableness as the butcher has. By a 
 malign influence she attracts him, an influence even 
 more fatal to herself than to him. And he appears 
 quite insensible, — occupied entirely with reflections on 
 his glossy skin and goodly form ; not suspecting that 
 bystanders have any other sentiment than admiration 
 of his attractions and approval of his manliness, he 
 goes quietly, unresistingly, lured rather than driven, 
 to the slaughter-house. 
 
 The effect of comparison with dumb animals is 
 heightened by throwing in a more direct comparison 
 with other human beings. Transposing the words, 
 with Delitzsch, as is evidently necessary in order to 
 preserve the parallelism of the similitude, we find this 
 little touch : " He goeth after her straightway, as a fool 
 to the correction of the fetters," — as if the Teacher would 
 remind us that the fate of the young man, tragic as it 
 is, is yet quite devoid of the noble aspects of tragedy. 
 This clause is a kind of afterthought, a modification. 
 "Did we say that he is like the ox going to the slaughter? 
 — nay, there is a certain dignity in that image, for the ox 
 is innocent of its own doom, and by its death many will 
 benefit ; with our pity for it we cannot but mingle a 
 certain gratitude, and we find no room for censure ; 
 but this entrapped weakling is after all only a fool, of 
 no service or interest to any one, without any of the 
 dignity of our good domestic cattle ; in his corrupt and 
 
100 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 witless heart is no innocence which should make us 
 mourn. And the punishment he goes to, though it is 
 ruin, is so mean and degrading that it awakes the jeers 
 and scorn of the beholders. As if he were in the 
 village stocks, he will be exposed to eyes which laugh 
 while they despise him. Those who are impure like 
 himself will leer at him ; those who are pure will avert 
 their glance with an ill-disguised contempt." There, 
 then, goes the ox to the slaughter ; nay, the mere empty- 
 headed fool to the punishment of the fetters, which 
 will keep him out of further mischief, and chain him 
 down to the dumb lifeless creation to which he seems 
 to belong. 
 
 But the scorn changes rapidly to pity. Where a 
 fellow-creature is concerned we may not feel contempt 
 beyond that point at which it serves as a rebuke, and 
 a stimulus to better things. When we are disposed 
 to turn away with a scornful smile, we become aware 
 of the suffering which the victim of his own sins will 
 endure. It will be like an arrow striking through the 
 liver. Only a moment, and he will be seized with the 
 sharp pain which follows on indulgence. Oh the 
 nausea and the loathing, when the morning breaks 
 and he sees in all their naked repulsiveness the things 
 which he allowed to fascinate him yester-eve ! What a 
 bitter taste is in his mouth ; what a ghastly and livid 
 hue is on the cheek which he imagined fair ! He is 
 pierced ; to miserable physical sufferings is joined a 
 sense of unspeakable degradation, a wretched depres- 
 sion of spirits, a wish to die which is balanced in 
 horrid equilibrium by a fear of death. 
 
 And now he will arise and flee out of this loathly 
 house, which seems to be strewn with dead men's bones 
 
vii.6.] REALISM IN MORAL TEACHING. 
 
 and haunted by the moaning spirits of the mighty host 
 which have here gone down into Sheol. But what 
 is this ? He cannot flee. He is held hke a bird in 
 the snare, which beats its wings and tries to fly in 
 vain ; the soft yielding net will rise and fall with its 
 efforts, but will not suffer it to escape. He cannot flee, 
 for if he should escape those fatal doors, before to- 
 morrow's sun sets he will be seized with an over- 
 mastering passion, a craving which is like the gnawing 
 of a vulture at the liver ; by an impulse which he can- 
 not resist he will be drawn back to that very corner ; 
 there will not be again any raptures, real or imagined, 
 only racking and tormenting desires ; there will be no 
 fascination of sight or scent or taste ; all will appear as 
 it is — revolting; the perfumes will all be rank and 
 sickly, the meat will all be blighted and fly-blown ; but 
 none the less he must back ; there, poor, miserable, 
 quivering bird, he must render himself, and must take 
 his fill of — loves ? no, of maudlin rapture and burning 
 disgust ; solace himself? no, but excite a desire which 
 grows with every satisfaction, which slowly and surely, 
 like that loathsome monster of the seas, slides its cling- 
 ing suckers around him, and holds him in an embrace 
 more and more deadly until he finally succumbs. 
 
 Then he perceives that the fatal step that he took 
 was " for his life," that is, his life was at stake. When 
 he entered into the trap, the die was cast ; hope was 
 abandoned as he entered there. The house which 
 appeared so attractive was a mere covered way to hell. 
 The chambers which promised such imagined delights 
 were on an incline which sloped down to death. 
 
 Look at him, during that brief passage from his 
 fooHsh heedlessness to his irretrievable ruin, a Rake's 
 
102 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 Progress presented in simple and vivid pictures, which 
 are so terrible because they are so absolutely true. 
 
 After gazing for a few minutes upon the story, do 
 we not feel its power ? Are there not many who are 
 deaf to all exhortations, who will never attend to the 
 words of Wisdom's mouth, who have a consummate art 
 in stopping their ears to all the nobler appeals of life, 
 who yet will be arrested by this clear presentation of 
 a fact, by the teacher's determination not to blink or 
 underrate any of the attractions and seductions, and by 
 his equal determination not to disguise or diminish any 
 of the frightful results ? 
 
 We may cherish the sweetness and the purity which 
 reticence will often preserve, but when the sweetness 
 and the purity are lost, reticence will not bring them 
 back, and duty seems to require that we should lay 
 aside our fastidiousness and speak out boldly in order 
 to save the soul of our brother. 
 
 But after dwelling on such a picture as this there is 
 a thought which naturally occurs to us ; in our hearts 
 a yearning awakes which the book of Proverbs is 
 not capable of meeting. Warnings so terrible, early 
 instilled into the minds of our young men, may by 
 God's grace be effectual in saving them from the decline 
 into those evil ways, and from going astray in the paths 
 of sin. Such warnings ought to be given, although 
 they are painful and difficult to give. But when we 
 have gone wrong through lack of instruction, when a 
 guilty silence has prevented our teachers from caution- 
 ing us, while the corrupt habits of society have drawn us 
 insensibly into sin, and a thousand glozening excuses 
 have veiled from our eyes the danger until it is too 
 late, is there nothing left for us but to sink deeper and 
 
vii.6.] REALISM IN MORAL TEACHING. 103 
 
 deeper into the slough, and to issue from it only to 
 emerge in the chambers of death ? 
 
 To this question Jesus gives the answer. He alone 
 can give it. Even that personified Wisdom whose 
 lofty and philosophical utterances we shall hear in the 
 next chapter, is not enough. No advice, no counsel, 
 no purity, no sanctity of example can avail. It is 
 useless to upbraid a man with his sins when he is 
 bound hand and foot with them and cannot escape. It 
 is a mockery to point out, what is only too obvious, 
 that without holiness no man can see God, at a moment 
 when the miserable victim of sin can see nothing clearly 
 except the fact that he is without holiness. ''The pure 
 in heart shall see God " is an announcement of exquisite 
 beauty, it has a music which is like the music of the 
 spheres, a music at which the doors of heaven seem 
 to swing open ; but it is merely a sentence of doom 
 to those who are not pure in heart. Jesus meets the 
 corrupt and ruined nature with the assurance that He 
 has come " to seek and to save that which was lost." 
 And lest a mere assertion should prove ineffectual to 
 the materialised and fallen spirit, Jesus came and pre- 
 sented in the realism of the Cross a picture of Redemp- 
 tion which could strike hearts that are too gross to feel 
 and too deaf to hear. It might be possible to work 
 out ideally the redemption of man in the unseen and 
 spiritual world. But actually, for men whose very sin 
 makes them unspiritual, there seems to be no way of 
 salvation which does not approach them in a tangible 
 form. The horrible corruption and ruin of our physical 
 nature, which is the work of sin, could be met only by 
 the Incarnation, which should work out a redemption 
 through the flesh. 
 
104 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 Accordingly, here is a wonder which none can ex- 
 plain, but which none can gainsay. When the victim 
 of fleshly sin, suffering from the arrow which has 
 pierced his liver, handed over as it seems to despair, 
 is led to gaze upon the Crucified Christ, and to under- 
 stand the meaning of His bearing our sins in His own 
 body on the tree, he is touched, he is led to repent- 
 ance, he is created anew, his flesh comes again to him 
 as a little child, he can offer up to God the sacrifice of a 
 contrite heart, and he is cleansed. 
 
 This is a fact which has been verified again and 
 again by experience. And they who have marked the 
 power of the Cross can never sufficiently admire the 
 wisdom and the love of God, who works by ways so 
 entirely unlike our ways, and has resources at His 
 command which surpass our conception and baffle our 
 explanation. 
 
 If there is a man literally broken down and diseased 
 with sin, enfeebled in will and purpose, tormented by 
 his evil appetite so that he seems like one possessed, 
 the wisest counsels may be without any effect ; paint in 
 the most vivid hues the horrible consequences of his 
 sin, but he will remain unmoved ; apply the coercion of 
 a prison and all the punishments which are at the 
 disposal of an earthly judge, and he will return to his 
 vicious life with a gusto increased by his recuperated 
 physical strength; present to him the most touching 
 appeals of wife and children and friends, and while 
 he sheds sentimental tears he will continue to run the 
 downward way. But let him be arrested by the spectacle 
 of Christ crucified for him, let the moving thought of 
 that priceless love and untold suffering stu" in his heart, 
 let his eyes be lifted never so faintly to those eyes of 
 
vii.6.] REALISM IN MORAL TEACHING. 105 
 
 Divine compassion, — and though he seemed to have 
 entered the very precincts of the grave, though the 
 heart within him seemed to have died and the con- 
 science seemed to be seared with a hot iron, you will 
 observe at once the signs of returning animation ; a cry 
 will go up from the lips, a sob will convulse the frame, 
 a light of passionate hope will come into the eyes. 
 Christ has touched him. Christ is merciful. Christ is 
 powerful. Christ will save. 
 
 Ah, if I speak to one who is bound with the cords 
 of his sin, helplessly fettered and manacled, dead as it 
 were in trespasses, I know there is no other name to 
 mention to you, no other hope to hold out to you. 
 Though I knew all science, I could not effectually help 
 you ; though I could command all the springs of human 
 feeling, I could not stir you from your apathy, or satisfy 
 the first cries of your awaking conscience. But it is 
 permitted to me to preach unto you — not abstract 
 Wisdom, but — Jesus, who received that name because 
 He should save His people from their sins. 
 
VIII. 
 
 THE FIRST-BORN OF THE CREATOR. 
 
 " Doth not Wisdom cry? " — Prov. viii. I. 
 
 IN the last chapter a dark and revolting picture of 
 Vice was drawn. This chapter contains a lovely 
 and living picture of Wisdom. In this contrast, as we 
 have already seen, Vice can be presented as a vicious 
 woman, because it is unhappily only too easy to find 
 such an incarnation in actual experience ; Wisdom, on 
 the other hand, cannot be presented as an actual 
 person, but only as a personification, because there 
 was, as yet, no Incarnation of Wisdom ; far from it, 
 Solomon, the wisest of men, the framer of many wise 
 proverbs, had been in practical conduct an incarnation 
 of folly rather than of wisdom, had himself become a 
 proverb for a wise and understanding heart in com- 
 bination with a dark and vicious life. Yet how could 
 the teacher fail to feel that some day there must be an 
 Incarnate Wisdom, a contrast to the Incarnate Vice, a 
 conqueror and destroyer of it ? In describing Wisdom 
 personified, and in following out her sweet and high- 
 souled utterance, the teacher unconsciously to himself 
 becomes a prophet, and presents, as we shall see, a 
 faint and wavering image of Him who of God was to 
 be made unto men Wisdom, of Him who was actually 
 
THE FIRST-BORN OF THE CREATOR. 107 
 
 to live a concrete human life embodying the Divine 
 Wisdom as completely as many poor stained human 
 lives have embodied the undivine folly of vice. The 
 description, then, is an adumbration of something as 
 3'et not seen or fully understood ; we must be careful 
 not to spoil its meaning by representing it as more, and 
 by attempting to press the details in explanation of the 
 being and the work of Christ. We shall do wisely to 
 look at the whole picture as it formed itself before the 
 eye of the writer, and to abstain from introducing into 
 it colours or shades of our own. Our first task must 
 be to follow the movement of the chapter as carefully 
 as possible. 
 
 Wisdom, unlike the vicious woman who lurks in the 
 twilight at the corner of the street which contains her 
 lair, stands in the open places ; she makes herself as 
 manifest as may be by occupying some elevated posi- 
 tion, from which her ringing voice may be heard down 
 the streets and up the cross-ways, and may attract the 
 attention of those who are entering the city gates or 
 the doors of the houses. As her voice is strong and 
 clear, so her words are full and rounded ; there is no 
 whispering, no muttering, no dark hint, no subtle 
 incitement to secret pleasures ; her tone is breezy and 
 stirring as the dawn ; there is something about it 
 which makes one involuntarily think of the open air,' 
 and the wide sky, and the great works of God. ^ There 
 is the beauty of goodness in all that she says ; there is 
 the charming directness and openness of truth ; she 
 abhors tortuous and obscure ways ; and if some of her 
 sayings seem paradoxes or enigmas, a little difficult 
 
 ' Prov. viii. 1-6. 
 
Io8 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 to understand, that is the fault of the hearer ; to a 
 tortuous mind straight things appear crooked ; to the 
 ignorant and uninstructed mind the eternal laws of 
 God appear foolishness ; but all that she says is plain 
 to one who understands, and right to those who find 
 knowledge.^ She walks always in a certain and un- 
 deviating course — it is the way of righteousness and 
 judgment — and only those who tread the same path 
 can expect to perceive the meaning of what she says, 
 or to appreciate the soundness of all her counsels.^ 
 And now she proclaims the grounds on which she 
 demands the attention of men, in a noble appeal, which 
 rises to a passionate eloquence and deepens in spiritual 
 significance as it advances. Roughly speaking, this 
 appeal seems to fall into two parts : from ver. lo to 
 ver. 2 1 the obvious advantages of obeying her voice are 
 declared, but at ver. 22 the discourse reaches a higher 
 level, and she claims obedience because of her essential 
 nature and her eternal place in the universe of created 
 things. 
 
 In the first part Wisdom solemnly states her own 
 value, as compared with the valuables which men 
 usually covet — silver, and gold, and precious stones. 
 That she is of more account than these, appears from 
 the fact that they are but parts of her gifts. In her 
 train come riches ; but they differ from ordinary riches 
 in being durable ; her faithful followers obtain substan- 
 tial wealth, and their treasuries insensibly fill.^ To 
 riches she adds honour, a crown which worldly riches 
 seldom bring, and, what is better still, the honour 
 which she confers is associated with righteousness, 
 
 ' Prov. viii. 7-9. ^ Prov. viii. 20. ' Prov. viii. 8, 9. 
 
viii. I.] THE FIRST-BORN OF THE CREATOR. loo 
 
 while the spurious honour which is commonly ren- 
 dered to riches, being conferred without any moral 
 implication, is devoid of any moral appreciation.^ But 
 after all, she herself is her own best reward ; the pros- 
 perity which accompanies her seems trivial compared 
 with the desirableness of her own person. Her 
 queenly dwelling is prudence, and at her touch all the 
 charmed regions of knowledge and discovery fly open ; 
 they who dwell with her and are admitted to share her 
 secrets find the fruit and the increase of the intellectual 
 life incomparably better than fine gold or choice silver. 
 And what gives to her endowments their peculiar com- 
 pleteness is that she requires a moral culture to go 
 hand in hand with mental development ; and leading 
 her disciples to hate evil, and to avoid the arrogance 
 and the pride of the intellect, she rescues knowledge 
 from becoming a mere barren accumulation of facts, 
 and keeps it always in contact with the humanities and 
 with life. Indeed, she finds it one great part of her 
 mighty task to instruct the rulers of men, and to fit them 
 for the fulfilment of their high functions. Her queenly 
 prerogative she shares with all her faithful followers. 
 Since Wisdom is the actual arbiter of human life, the 
 wise man is, as the Stoics would have said, a king; 
 nor can any king be recognized or tolerated who is not 
 wise.- 
 
 And all these advantages of wealth and honour, 
 of knowledge, and power, and righteousness, are put 
 within the reach of every one. Wisdom is no churl 
 in loving ; she loves all who love her. She does 
 not seek to withdraw herself from men ; rather she 
 
 ' Prov. viii. i8. - Prov. viii, 10-16. 
 
no THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 chooses the places and the ways in which she can best 
 attract them. Queenly as she is, she condescends to 
 woo them. Her invitations are general, even uni- 
 versal. And therefore if any do not find her, it is 
 because they do not seek her ; if any do not share in 
 her rich gifts and graces, it is because they will not 
 •take the trouble to claim them.^ 
 
 But now we pass on to the second ground of appeal. 
 Wisdom unveils herself, discloses her origin, shows her 
 heart, stands for a moment on her high celestial throne, 
 that she may make her claims upon the sons of men 
 more irresistible. She was the first creation of God.^ 
 Before the earth issued out of nothingness she was 
 there. In joyous activity, daily full of delight, she was 
 beside God, as an architect, in the forming of the world. 
 She saw the great earth shaped and clothed for the first 
 time in the mantle of its floods, and made musical with 
 the sound of its fountains. She saw the mountains and 
 the hills built up from their foundations. She saw the 
 formation of the dry land, and of the atoms of dust which 
 go to make the ground.^ She saw the sky spread out as 
 a firm vault to cover the earth ; and she saw God when 
 
 ' Prov. viii. 17. 
 
 ^ Prov. viii. 22. There is unfortunately an ambiguity in the word 
 n^i^. It may mean either "to possess" or "to create." Cf. Gen. 
 xiv. 19, 22, where it is impossible to decide between "Possessor of the 
 earth " and "Maker of the earth." That the word might be rendered 
 "got" in this passage is evident from iv. 7, where it is employed ; on the 
 other hand, the LXX. renders ^KTtae, and the author of Ecclesiasticus 
 evidently took it in this sense; c/. i. 4, "Wisdom hath been created 
 before all things, and the understanding of prudence from everlasting." 
 In Gen. iv. it is rendered " gotten," but it is quite possible that the 
 joyful mother called her son j^j^ with the feeling that she had created 
 him with the help of the Lord. 
 * Prov. viii. 26. 
 
i. I.] THE FIRST-BORN OF THE CREATOR. iii 
 
 "... in His hand 
 He took the golden compasses, prepared 
 In God's eternal store, to circumscribe 
 This universe and all created things."' 
 
 She saw the mighty tides of the ocean restricted to 
 their appointed cisterns, and the firm outhnes of the 
 land fixed as their impassable barriers.^ And this very 
 Wisdom, who thus presided over the formation of land, 
 and sea, and sky, is she who still sports with God's 
 fruitful earth — yes, sports, for the great characteristic of 
 Wisdom is her exultant cheerfulness, and it must by no 
 means be supposed that the foolish and the wicked have 
 all the gaiety and mirth as their own.^ This Wisdom 
 
 ' Milton, Paradise Lost, vii. 225. 
 
 ^ Prov. viii. 29. It is hardly necessary to point out that the language 
 betra3^s a complete ignorance of those facts with which astronomy 
 and geology have made us familiar. The author puts into the lips of 
 "Wisdom the scientific conceptions of his own time, when the earth 
 was regarded as a flat surface, covered by a solid circular vault, in 
 which the sun, and moon, and stars were fixed. The "circle upon the 
 flood " is probably the apparent circle which is suggested to the 
 observer by the horizon. No one had as yet dreamed that the moun- 
 tains were thrown up by, not settled in, the surface of the earth, nor 
 was it dreamed that the bounds of the sea are far from being settled, 
 but subject to gradual variations, and even to cataclysmal changes. 
 It may be observed, however, that the vo3'age of the C/ial/enger seems 
 to have established beyond question that the great outlines of land 
 and ocean have remained approximately the same from the beginning. 
 Ocean islands are of volcanic origin or the work of the coral-insect ; 
 but the great continents and all contained within the fringe of a 
 thousand-fathom depth from their shores have remained practically 
 unaltered despite the numerous partial upheavals or submergences. 
 
 A passage so full of spiritual and moral significance, and yet so 
 entirely untouched by what are to us the elementary conclusions of 
 science, should furnish a valuable criterion in estimating what we are 
 to understand by the Inspiration of such a book as this. 
 
 3 C/. X. 23. 
 
112 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 is she too who finds her peculiar delight with the sons 
 of men. 
 
 Is it not obvious, then, that men, who are her sons, 
 ought to give ear to her counsels ? What could esta- 
 blish a stronger claim for attention than this ancient 
 origin, this honourable part in laying the very founda- 
 tions of the earth, and this special interest in human 
 life from the beginning? Raised to this high level, 
 where we command so wide a prospect, are we not 
 forced to see that it is our duty, our interest, our joy, 
 to come as humble suitors to the gates of Wisdom, and 
 there to watch, and wait, and seek until we may obtain 
 admission ? Must we not search after her, when in 
 finding her we find hfe and obtain favour of the Lord ? 
 Can we not perceive that to miss her is to miss life, to 
 wrong our own souls — to hate her is to love death? 
 Evidently her eagerness to win us is entirely disin- 
 terested ; though she delights in us, she could easily 
 dispense with us ; on the other hand, though we do not 
 delight in her, though we constantly turn a deaf ear to 
 her, and refuse to walk in her ways, she is indispensable 
 to us. 
 
 Such a passage as this gives rise to many reflections, 
 and the longer we meditate upon it the more rich and 
 suggestive it appears. Let us try to follow out some 
 of the thoughts which readily present themselves, and 
 especially such as are suggested by the verses which 
 may be described as the poem of creation. 
 
 First of all, here is the noble idea which overturns 
 at a touch all m3^thological speculations about the 
 origin of things — an idea which is in deep harmony 
 
 * Prov. viii. 22-31. 
 
viii. I.] THE FIRST-BORN OF THE CREATOR. 113 
 
 with all the best knowledge of our own time — that 
 there is nothing fortuitous in the creation of the world ; 
 the Creator is not a blind Force, but an Intelligent Being 
 whose first creation is wisdom. He is the origin of a 
 Law by which He means to bind Himself; arbitrariness 
 finds no place in His counsels ; accident has no part 
 in His works ; in Wisdom hath He formed them all. In 
 all heathen conceptions of creation caprice is supreme, 
 law has no place, blind force works in this way or 
 that, either by the compulsion of a Necessity which is 
 stronger than the gods, or by freaks and whims of the 
 gods which would be contemptible even in men. But 
 here is the clear recognition of the principle that God's 
 Law is a law also to Himself, and that His law is 
 wisdom. He creates the world as an outcome of His 
 own wise and holy design, so that "nothing walks with 
 aimless feet." It is on this theological conception that 
 the possibility of science depends. Until the universe 
 is recognized as an ordered and intelligible system the 
 ordered and intelligent study of it cannot begin. As 
 long as the arbitrary and fortuitous are supposed to 
 hold sway inquiry is paralyzed at its starting-point. 
 
 It may, however, be suggested that the doctrine of 
 Evolution, which scientific men are almost unanimous 
 in accepting, is inconsistent with this idea of Creation. 
 By this doctrine our attention is directed to the appa- 
 rently disordered collision of forces, and the struggle 
 for existence out of which the order and progress of 
 life are educed, and it is hastily assumed that a Wise 
 Intelligence would not work in this way, but would 
 exhibit more economy of resources, more simplicity and 
 directness of method, and more inevitableness of result. 
 But may we not say that the apparent fortuitousness 
 
 8 
 
114 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 with which the results are achieved is the clearest 
 evidence of the wise purpose which orders and directs 
 the process ? for about the results there can be no 
 question ; order, beauty, fitness ever3^where prevail ; life 
 emerges from the inorganic, thought from life, morality 
 and religion from thought. The more our attention is 
 called to the apparently accidental steps by which these 
 results are reached, the more persuaded must we become 
 that a great and a wise law was at work, that by the 
 side of the Creator, as a master workman, was Wisdom 
 from the beginning. Such a passage as this, then, 
 prepares the way for all science, and furnishes the true 
 conceptions without which science would be sterile. It 
 takes us at a step out of a pagan into a truly religious 
 mode of thinking ; it leads us out of the misty regions 
 of superstition to the luminous threshold of the House 
 of Knowledge. It may be said with truth that many 
 scientific facts which are known to us were not known 
 to the writer ; and this may raise a prejudice against 
 our book in those minds which can tolerate no thought 
 except that of the present generation, and appreciate 
 no knowledge which is not, as it were, brought up to 
 date; but the fruitful conception is here, here is the 
 right way of regarding the universe, here the preparation , 
 of all science. 
 
 And now to advance to another idea which is im- 
 plied in the passage, the idea that in the very con- 
 ception of the universe human life was contemplated, 
 and regarded with a peculiar delight by the Wisdom of 
 God. The place which Man occupies in creation has 
 been variously estimated in different religious S3'stems 
 and by different religious thinkers. Sometimes he 
 has been regarded as the centre of all things, the 
 
viii. I.] THE FIRST-BORN OF THE CREATOR. 115 
 
 creature for whom all things exist. Then a reaction 
 has set in, and he has been treated as a very insignifi- 
 cant and possibly transient phenomenon in the order of 
 things. It is characteristic of the Bible that it presents 
 a balanced view of this question, avoiding extremes in 
 both directions. On the one hand, it very clearly 
 recognizes that man is a part of the creation, that he 
 belongs to it because he springs out of it, and rules 
 over it only in so far as he conforms to it ; on the 
 other hand, it clearly insists on that relation between 
 man and his Creator which is hinted at here. Man is 
 always implicitly connected with God by some half- 
 divine mediator. The Wisdom of God watches with 
 an unmoved heart the growth of the physical world, 
 but into her contemplation of mankind there enters 
 a peculiar delight. There is that in man which can 
 listen to her appeals, can listen and respond. He is 
 capable of rising to the point of view from which she 
 looks out upon the world, and can even see himself in 
 the light in which she sees him. In a word, man, with 
 all his insignificance, has a sublime possibility in him, 
 the possibility of becoming Hke God ; in this he stands 
 quite alone among created things ; it is this whieh 
 gives him his pre-eminence. Thus our passage, while 
 it does not for a moment imply that the material 
 universe was made for the sake of man, or that man 
 in himself can claim a superiority over the other crea- 
 tures of the earth— and so far takes a view which is 
 very popular with scientific men — yet parts company 
 with the philosophy of materialism in claiming for man 
 a place altogether unique, because he has within him 
 the possibility of being linked to God by means of the 
 Wisdom of God. 
 
ii6 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 And now we may notice another implication of the 
 passage. While Wisdom celebrates her high prerogative 
 as the first-born of the Creator and the instrument of 
 the creation, and urges upon men as parts of the creation 
 the observance of the Moral Law, she is implicitly 
 teaching the great truth which men have been so slow 
 to grasp, that the law of practical righteousness is of 
 a piece with the very laws of creation. To put it in 
 another form, the rules of right conduct are really the 
 rules of the universe applied to human life. Laws of 
 nature, as they are called, and laws of morality have 
 their origin in one and the same Being, and are interpreted 
 to us by one and the same Wisdom. It would be well 
 for us all if we could understand how far-reaching this 
 great truth is, and an intelligent study of this passage 
 certainly helps us to understand it. None of us, in our 
 wildest moments, think of pitting ourselves against the 
 laws of nature. We do not murmur against the law 
 of gravitation ; we scrupulously conform to it so far as 
 we can, knowing that if we do not it will be the worse 
 for us. When heavy seas are breaking, and the spirit 
 of the winds is let loose, we do not venture on the 
 waves in a small, open boat, or if we do, we accept the 
 consequences without complaint. But when we come 
 to deal with the moral law we entertain some idea that 
 it is elastic and uncertain, that its requirements may be 
 complied with or not at pleasure, and that we may 
 violate its eternal principles without any serious loss or 
 injury. But the truth is, the Law is one. The only 
 difference arises from the fact that while the natural 
 laws, applying to inanimate objects or to creatures 
 which enjoy no freedom of moral life, are necessarily 
 obeyed, the moral rules apply to conscious reasoning 
 
viii. I.J THE FIRST-BORN OF THE CREATOR. 117 
 
 creatures, who, possessed of freedom, are able to choose 
 whether they will obey the law or not. Yes, the Law is 
 one, and breaches of the Law are punished inevitably 
 both in the natural and in the moral sphere. This 
 same Wisdom, to which "wickedness is an abomination/' 
 and which therefore exhorts the sons of men to walk in 
 the ways of righteousness, is the great principle which 
 ordered the physical universe and stamped upon it 
 those laws of uniformity and inevitableness which 
 Science delights to record and to illustrate. 
 
 But when we notice how the Wisdom who is here 
 speaking is at once the mouthpiece of the laws which 
 underlie the whole creation and of the laws which 
 govern the moral life, it is easy to perceive how this 
 passage becomes a foreshadowing of that wonderful 
 Being who of God is made unto us Wisdom as well as 
 Righteousness. Or, to put it in a shghtly different way, 
 we are able to perceive how this passage is a faint and 
 imperfect glimpse into the nature and the work of Him 
 whom in New Testament phraseology we call the Son 
 of God — faint and imperfect, because this Wisdom, 
 although represented as speaking, is still only an 
 abstraction, a personification, and her relation both to 
 God and to man is described in very vague and indefinite 
 language ; and yet, though faint and imperfect, very 
 true as far as it goes, for it recognizes with wonderful 
 distinctness the three truths which we have just been 
 considering, truths that have become luminous for us 
 in Christ ; it recognizes, firstly, that the world was the 
 creation of Wisdom, of Reason, or, if we may use the 
 New Testament term, of the Word ; it recognizes, 
 secondly, that the thought of Man was contained in the 
 very thought of creation, and that man was related in 
 
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 a direct and unique way with the Creator ; lastly^ it 
 recognizes that goodness lies at the very root of creation, 
 and that therefore natural law when applied to human 
 life is a demand for righteousness. 
 
 It is interesting to observe that this glimpse, this 
 adumbration of a great truth, which was only to become 
 quite clear in Christ Jesus our Lord, was advanced a 
 little in clearness and completeness by a book which is 
 not generally considered to be inspired, the so-called 
 book of Wisdom, in a passage which must be quoted. 
 *' For she [i.e. Wisdom] is a breath of the power of 
 God, and a pure influence flowing from the glory of 
 the Almighty ; therefore can no defiled thing fall into 
 her. For she is the brightness of the everlasting 
 light, the unspotted mirror of the power of God, and 
 the image of His goodness. And being but one, 
 she can do all things ; and remaining in herself, she 
 maketh all things new ; and in all ages entering into 
 holy souls, she maketh them friends of God and 
 prophets. For God loveth none but him that dwelleth 
 with Wisdom. For she is more beautiful than the sun, 
 and above all the order of stars ; being compared with 
 the light, she is found before it."^ 
 
 In this passage Wisdom is still a mere impersona- 
 tion, but the language employed is evidently very near 
 to that which the New Testament applies to Christ. 
 When Philo came to treat of the idea, and wished to 
 
 ' Wisdom vii. 25-29. The book of Wisdom, a work of the second 
 century B.C., at one time had a place in the canon, and owes its 
 exclusion, in all probability, to the fact that it was written in Greek; 
 as there was no Hebrew original, it was evident that Solomon was 
 not the author. But the use which the Epistle to the Hebrews 
 makes of the passage quoted in the text may suggest how very un- 
 necessary the exclusion from the canon was. 
 
THE FIRST-BORN OF THE CREATOR. 119 
 
 describe this intermediate being between God and man, 
 he employed another term ; changing the feminine into 
 the mascuHne, he spoke of it as the Logos. And 
 this expression! is adopted by the Fourth Gospel in 
 describing the Eternal Son before He became flesh ; 
 the Word of the fuller revelation is the Wisdom of the 
 Proverbs. 
 
 How far Christ recognized in this impersonation 
 of our book a description or representation of Himself 
 it is impossible to say. It is certain that on one 
 occasion, in defending His action against the charges 
 of the Pharisees, He declared, " Wisdom is justified 
 of her children," ^ a defence which can be most simply 
 explained by supposing that Wisdom stands for Him- 
 self. It is certain, too-, that He spoke of His own pre- 
 existence,'^ and that the Evangelist assigns to Him in 
 that life before the Incarnation a position not unlike 
 that which is attributed to Wisdom in our passage : 
 " All things were made by Him ; and without Him 
 was not anything made that hath been made. . . . 
 No man hath seen God at any time ; the only begotten 
 Son, which is in the bosom of the Father, He hath 
 declared Him."^ But whether our Lord expressly 
 acknowledged the forecast of Himself which is con- 
 tained in the passage or not, we cannot fail to mark 
 with joy and wonder how strikingly all that is best 
 in the utterance and in the delineation of Wisdom is 
 produced, concrete, tangible, real, in Him. 
 
 He, like Wisdom in the book of Proverbs, appears 
 in the busy haunts of man, appeals to them, invites 
 them with large, open-armed generosity. His voice 
 
 ' Luke vii. 35 ;2Matt. xi. 19. '^ John viii. 58. 
 
 ^ John i. 3, 18. 
 
120 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 is to the sons of men. He, like Wisdom, can say with 
 absolute truth, ^'All the words of My mouth are in 
 righteousness ; there is nothing crooked or perverse 
 in them." He too could speak of His teaching as 
 *' plain and right/' and could with simple literalness 
 declare that His words were more precious than gold, 
 while obedience to Him would cause men " to inherit 
 substance." With what force He might claim that 
 even kings rule by Him we shall only know when 
 the kingdoms of the world have become His in their 
 integrity ; but we can see at once how appropriate 
 in His lips is the beautiful saying, " I love them that 
 love Me, and those that seek Me early shall find Me." 
 
 With equal suitability might He, the First-born of all 
 creation, the beginning of the creation of God, use the 
 sublime language which follows. And He too could 
 say that His delight was with the sons of men. Yes, 
 how much that means to us ! If His delight had not 
 been with us, how could ours ever have been with 
 Him ? What a new meaning irradiates every human 
 being when we realize that with him, with her, is the 
 delight of the Son of God ! What a revelation lies 
 in the fact, a revelation of what man was by his origin, 
 made in the image of God, and of what he may be in 
 the last event, brought to " the fulness of the measure 
 of the stature of Christ." We must not speak as if 
 He delights in us because He has redeemed us; no, 
 He redeemed us because He delighted in us. Is not 
 this a ground on which He may appeal to us, " Now 
 therefore, my sons, hearken unto Me ; for blessed 
 are they that keep My ways " ? And can we not say 
 to Him with a fervour which the cold abstraction of 
 Wisdom could not possibly excite, "We would watch 
 
viii. I.] THE FIRST-BORN OF THE CREATOR. 121 
 
 daily at Thy gates, waiting at the posts of Thy doors. 
 For when we find Thee we find hfe and obtain 
 favour of the Lord. When we sin against Thee we 
 wrong our own souls ; when we hate Thee we love 
 death " ? 
 
 Yes, in place of this ancient Wisdom, which, stately 
 and lovely as she is, remains always a little intangible 
 and unapproachable, Christ is made unto us Wisdom, 
 and He speaks to us the old words with a deeper 
 meaning, and new words which none but He could 
 ever speak. 
 
IX. 
 
 TIVO VOICES IN THE HIGH PLACES OF THE CITY. 
 
 Ch. IX., VV, 14 WITH 3, AND 1 6 WITH 4. 
 
 AFTER the lengthened contrast between the vicious 
 woman and Wisdom in chaps, vii. and viii., the 
 introduction of the book closes with a Httle picture 
 which is intended to repeat and sum up all that has 
 gone before. It is a peroration, simple, graphic, and 
 beautiful. 
 
 There is a kind of competition between Wisdom and 
 Folly, between Righteousness and Sin, between Virtue 
 and Vice; and the allurements of the two are disposed in 
 an intentional parallelism; the colouring and arrange- 
 ment are of such a kind that it becomes incredible how 
 any sensible person, or for that matter even the simple 
 himself, could for a moment hesitate between the noble 
 form of Wisdom and the meretricious attractions of 
 Folly. The two voices are heard in the high places of 
 the city ; each of them invites the passers-by, especially 
 the simple and unsophisticated — the one into her 
 fair palace, the other into her foul and deadly house. 
 The words of their invitation are very similar: ''Whoso 
 is simple, let him turn in hither : as for him that 
 is void of understanding, she saith to him ; " but how 
 different is the burden of the two messages ! Wisdom 
 
ix. 14, 16.] TIVO VOICES IN THE HIGH PLACES. 
 
 123 
 
 offers life, but is silent about enjoyment ; Folly offers 
 enjoyment, but says nothing of the death which must 
 surely ensue. ^ 
 
 First of all we will give our attention to the Palace 
 of Wisdom and the voices which issue from it, and then 
 we will note for the last time the features and the arts 
 of Mistress Folly. 
 
 The Palace of Wisdom is very attractive ; well built 
 and well furnished, it rings with the sounds of hospitality; 
 and, with its open colonnades, it seems of itself to invite 
 all passers-by to enter in as guests. It is reared upon 
 seven well-hewn marble pillars, in a quadrangular form, 
 with the entrance side left wide open.^ This is no 
 shifting tent or tottering hut, but an eternal mansion, 
 that lacks nothing of stability, or completeness, or 
 beauty. Through the spacious doorways may be seen 
 the great courtyard, in which appear the preparations 
 for a perpetual feast. The beasts are killed and 
 dressed ; the wine stands in tall flagons ready mixed 
 for drinking; the tables are spread and decked. All 
 is open, generous, large, a contrast to that unhallowed 
 private supper to which the unwary youth was invited 
 
 ' Cf. for this contrast between the two xxiii. 26-28, where Wisdom 
 speaks, and expressly warns against her rival. 
 
 - The arrangement of the house is that of an open courtyard, 
 surrounded with apartments, the general roof supported on the pillars 
 thus 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 L 
 
 
 
124 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 by his seducer.^ There are no secret chambers, no 
 twilight suggestions and insinuations : the broad Hght 
 shines over all ; there is a promise of social joy ; it 
 seems that they will be blessed who sit down together 
 at this board. And now the beautiful owner of the 
 palace has sent forth her maidens into the public ways 
 of the city : theirs is a gracious errand ; they are not 
 to chide with sour and censorious rebukes, but they 
 are to invite with winning friendliness; they are to offer 
 this rare repast, which is now ready, to all those who 
 are willing to acknowledge their need of it. *' Come, 
 eat ye of my bread, and drink of the wine which I 
 have mingled."^ 
 
 We were led to inquire in the last chapter how far 
 our Lord identified Himself with the hypostatic 
 Wisdom who was speaking there, and we were left 
 in some doubt whether He ever consciously admitted 
 the identity ; but it is hardly a matter of doubt that 
 this passage was before His mind when He spoke His 
 parable of the Wedding Feast.^ And the connection is 
 still more apparent when we look at the Greek version 
 of the LXX., and notice that the clause ''sent forth her 
 bond-servants " is precisely the same in Prov. ix. 3 and 
 in Matt. xxii. 3. Here, at any rate, Jesus, who describes 
 Himself as ''a certain king," quite definitely occupies 
 the place of the ancient Wisdom in the book of 
 Proverbs, and the language which in this passage she 
 employs He, as we shall see, in many slight particulars 
 made His own. 
 
 Yes, our Lord, the Wisdom Incarnate, has glorious 
 ideas of hospitality ; He keeps open house ; His purpose 
 
 ' Prov. vii. 14. - Prov. ix. 5. ^ Matt. xxii. I, et seq. 
 
ix. 14, 16.] TJVO VOICES IN THE HIGH PLACES. 125 
 
 is to call mankind to a great feast ; the " bread and the 
 wine " are prepared ; the sacrifice whicli furnishes the 
 meat is slain. His messengers are not commissioned 
 with a mournful or a condemnatory proclamation, but 
 with good tidings which they are to pubHsh in the high 
 places. His word is always, Come. His desire is that 
 men should live, and therefore He calls them into the 
 way of understanding.^ If a man lacks wisdom, if he 
 recognizes his ignorance, his frailty, his folly, if he is 
 at any rate wise enough to know that he is foolish, well 
 enough to know that he is sick, righteous enough to 
 know that he is sinful, let him approach this noble 
 mansion with its lordly feast. Here is bread which is 
 meat indeed ; here is wine which is life-giving, the fruit 
 of the Vine which God has planted. 
 
 But now we are to note that the invitation of Wisdom 
 is addressed only to the simple, not to the scorner.^ 
 She lets the scorner pass by, because a word to him 
 would recoil only in shame on herself, bringing a blush to 
 her queenly face, and would add to the scorner's wicked- 
 ness by increasing his hatred of her. Her reproof 
 would not benefit him, but it would bring a blot upon 
 herself, it would exhibit her as ineffectual and helpless. 
 The bitter words of a scorner can make wisdom appear 
 foolish, and cover virtue with a confusion which should 
 belong only to vice. "Speak not in the hearing of a 
 fool ; for he will despise the wisdom of thy words." ^ 
 Indeed, there is no character so hopeless as that of the 
 scorner ; there proceeds from him, as it were, a fierce 
 blast, which blows away all the approaches which good- 
 ness makes to him. Reproof cannot come near him ; * 
 
 ' Prov. ix. 6. ^ Prov. xxiii. 0. 
 
 ^ Prov. ix. 7. * Prov. xiii, T. 
 
126 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 he cannot find wisdom, though he seek it ; ^ and as a 
 matter of fact, he never seeks it.^ If one attempts to 
 punish him it can only be with the hope that others 
 may benefit by the example ; it will have no effect 
 upon him.^ To be rid of him must be the desire of 
 every wise man, for he is an abomination to all,^ and 
 with his departure contention disappears.'^ They that 
 scoff" at things holy, and scorn the Divine Power, must 
 be left to themselves until the beginnings of wisdom 
 appear in them — the first sense of fear that there is a 
 God who may not be mocked, the first recognition that 
 there is a sanctity which they would do well at all 
 events to reverence. There must be a Httle wisdom in 
 the heart before a man can enter the Palace of Wisdom ; 
 there must be a humbling, a self-mistrust, a diffident 
 misgiving before the scorner will give heed to her 
 invitation. 
 
 There is an echo of this solemn truth in more than 
 one saying of the Lord's. He too cautioned His 
 disciples against casting their pearls before swine, lest 
 they should trample the pearls under their feet, and 
 turn to rend those who were foolish enough to offer 
 them such treasure.^ Men must often be taught in the 
 stern school of Experience, before they can matriculate 
 in the reasonable college of Wisdom. It is not good to 
 give that which is holy to dogs, nor to display the 
 sanctities of religion to those who will only put them to 
 an open shame. Where we follow our own way instead 
 of the Lord's, and insist on offering the treasures of the 
 kingdom to the scorners, we are not acting according 
 to the dictates of Wisdom, we get a blot for that good- 
 
 * Pro\% xiv. 6. ^ Prov. xix. 25. ^ Prov. xxii. 10. 
 
 ^ Prov. XV. 12. ^ Prov. xxiv. 9. ^ Matt. vii. 6. 
 
IX. 14, i6.] Tiro VOICES IN THE HIGH PLACES. 127 
 
 ness which we so rashly offer, and often are needlessly- 
 rent by those whom we meant to save. It is evident that 
 this is only one side of a truth, and our Lord presented 
 with equal fulness the other side; it was from Him we 
 learnt how the scorner himself, who cannot be won by 
 reproof, can sometimes be won by love ; but our Lord 
 thought it worth while to state this side of the truth, 
 and so far to make this utterance of the ancient Wisdom 
 His own. 
 
 Again, how constantly He insisted on the mysterious 
 fact that to him that hath shall be given, and from him 
 that hath not shall be taken what he hath, precisely in 
 the spirit of this saying : '' Give instruction to a wise 
 man, and he will be yet wiser : teach a righteous man, 
 and he will increase in learning." ^ The entrance into 
 the kingdom, as into the house of Wisdom, is by 
 humility. Except a man turn, and become as a little 
 child, he cannot enter. Wisdom is only justified of her 
 children : until the heart is humble it cannot even begin 
 to be wise ; although it may seem to possess a great 
 deal, all must be taken away, and a new beginning 
 must be made — that beginning which is found in the fear 
 of the Lord, and in the knowledge of the Holy One.^ 
 
 The closing words in the invitation of Wisdom are 
 entirely appropriate in the lips of Jesus, and, indeed, 
 only in His lips could they be accepted in their fullest 
 signification. There is a limited sense in which all 
 wisdom is favourable to long life, as we saw in chap, iii., 
 but it is an obvious remark, too, that the wise perish 
 even as the fool ; one event happens to them both, and 
 
 ' Prov. ix. 9. Cf. xviii. 15, " The heart of the prudent getteth know- 
 ledge ; and the ear of the wise seeketh knowledge." 
 ■•* Prov. ix. 10. 
 
128 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 there appears to be no difference. But the Incarnate 
 Wisdom, Jesus Christ, was able to say with a broad 
 literalness, " By Me thy days shall be multiplied, and 
 the years of thy life shall be increased." With Him 
 the outlook widened ; He could speak of a new life, of 
 raising men up at the last day ; He could for the first 
 time give a solution to that constant enigma which has 
 puzzled men from the beginning, How is it that Wisdom 
 promises life, and yet often requires that her children 
 should die ? how is it that the best and wisest have 
 often chosen death, and so to all appearance have 
 robbed the world of their goodness and their wisdom ? 
 He could give the answer in the glorious truth of the 
 Resurrection ; and so, in calhng men to die for Him, 
 as He often does, He can in the very moment of their 
 death say to them with a fulness of meaning, '' By Me 
 thy days shall be multiplied, and the years of thy life 
 shall be increased." 
 
 And then how entirely is it in harmony with all His 
 teaching to emphasize to the utmost the individual 
 choice and the individual responsibility. " If thou art 
 wise, thou art wise for thyself: and if thou scornest, 
 thou alone shalt bear it." There can be no progress, 
 indeed no beginning, in the spiritual life, until this 
 attitude of personal isolation is understood. It is the 
 last result of true religion that we live in others ; but 
 it is the first that we live in ourselves ; and until we 
 have learnt to live in ourselves we can be of no use by 
 living in others. Until the individual soul is dealt with, 
 until it has understood the demands which are made 
 upon it, and met them, it is in no position to take its 
 rightful place as a lively stone in the temple of God, or 
 as a living member in the body of Christ. Yes, realize 
 
ix. 14, i6.] Tiro VOICES IN THE HIGH PLACES. 129 
 
 this searching assurance of Wisdom, let us say, rather, 
 of Christ : if you are Hke the wise virgins in the parable, 
 it is for your own everlasting good, you shall enter 
 into the hall with the Bridegroom ; but if you are like 
 the foolish virgins, no wisdom of the wise can avail 
 you, no vicarious light will serve for your lamps ; for 
 you there must be the personal humiliation and sorrow 
 of the Lord's " I know you not." 
 
 If with scornful indifference to your high trust as a 
 servant of the Master you hide your talent, and justify 
 your conduct to yourself by pleading that the Master is 
 a hard man, that scorn must recoil upon your own 
 head ; so far from the enlarged wealth of the others 
 coming to meet your deficiencies, the misused trifle 
 which you still retain will be taken from you and given 
 to them. Men have sometimes favoured the notion that 
 it is possible to spend a life of scornful indifference to 
 God and all His holy commandments, a life of arrogant 
 self-seeking and bitter contempt for all His other 
 creatures, and yet to find oneself at the end entirely 
 purged of one's contempt, and on precisely equal terms 
 with all pious and humble hearts; but against this 
 notion Wisdom loudly exclaims ; it is the notion of Folly, 
 and so far from redeeming the folly, it is Folly's worst 
 condemnation ; for surely Conscience and Reason, the 
 heart and the head, might tell us that it is false; and 
 all that is sanest and wisest in us concurs in the direct 
 and simple assurance, " If thou scornest, thou alone 
 shalt bear it." 
 
 Such is the invitation, and such the warning, of 
 Wisdom; such is the invitation, and such the warning, of 
 Christ. Leave off, ye simple ones, and live. After all, 
 most of us are not scorners, but only very foolish, easily 
 
 
 9 
 
130 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 dazzled with false lights, easily misled with smooth 
 utterances which happen to chime in with our own 
 ignorant prejudices, easily seduced into by-paths which 
 in quiet moments we readily acknowledge to be sinful 
 and hurtful. The scorners are but a few ; the simple 
 ones are many. Here is this gracious voice appealing 
 to the simple ones, and with a winsome liberahty 
 inviting them to the feast of Wisdom. 
 
 At the close of ver. 1 2 the LXX. give a very interesting 
 addition, which was probably translated from a Hebrew 
 original. It seems to have been before our Lord's 
 mind when He drew the description of the unclean spirit 
 walking through waterless places, seeking rest and 
 finding none.^ The passage is a figurative delineation 
 of the evils which result from making shams and 
 insincerities the support of life, in place of the unfailing 
 sureness and available strength of wisdom ; it may be 
 rendered thus : '' He who makes falsehood his support 
 shepherds the winds, and will find himself pursuing 
 birds on the wing ; for it means leaving the paths of 
 his own vineyard, and wandering over the borders of 
 his own husbandry ; it means walking through a water- 
 less wilderness, over land which is the portion of the 
 thirsty ; he gathers in his hands fruitlessness." What 
 a contrast to the spacious halls and the bountiful fare 
 of Wisdom ! A life based upon everlasting verities 
 may seem for the time cold and desolate, but it is 
 founded upon a rock, and not a barren rock either, for 
 it sends forth in due course corn, and wine, and oil. 
 The children in that house have bread enough and to 
 spare. But when a man prefers make-believe to reality, 
 
 1 Matt. xii. 43. 
 
ix. 14, i6.] TJrO VOICES IN THE HIGH PLACES. 131 
 
 and follows the apparently pleasant, instead of the 
 actually good, what a clutching of winds it is ! what 
 a chase after swift-vanishing birds of joy ! The whole- 
 some ways, fruitful, responsive to toil, are left far behind ; 
 and here soon is the actual desert, without a drop of 
 \vater to cool the lips, or a single fruit of the earth 
 which a man can eat. The deluded soul consumed his 
 substance with harlots, and he gathers the wind. The 
 ways of vice are terrible ; they produce a thirst which 
 they cannot quench ; and they fill the imagination with 
 torturing images of well-being which are farther removed 
 from reality by every step we take. Wisdom bids us 
 to make truth our stay, for after all the Truth is the 
 Way and the Life, and there is. no other way, no other 
 life. 
 
 And now comes the brief closing picture of Folly, to 
 which again the LXX. give a short addition. Folly is 
 loud, empty-headed as her victims, whom she invites 
 to herself, not as Wisdom invites them, to leave off their 
 simplicity, but rather as like to like, that their igno- 
 rance may be confirmed into vice, and their simplicity 
 into brutishness. She has had the effrontery to build 
 her house in the most prominent and lofty place of 
 the city, where by good rights only Wisdom should 
 dwell. Her allurements are specially directed to those 
 who seem to be going right on in their wholesome ways, 
 as if she found her chief delight, not in gratifying the 
 vicious, but in making vicious the innocent. Her charms 
 are poor and tawdry enough; seen in the broad sunlight, 
 and with the wholesome air all round her, she would 
 be revolting to every uncorrupted nature ; her clamorous 
 voice would sound strident, and her shameless brow 
 would create a blush of shame in others ; she natu- 
 
[32 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 rally therefore seeks to throw a veil over herself and 
 a glamour over her proposals ; she suggests that 
 secrecy and illicitness will lend a charm to what in 
 itself is a sorry delight. It is clandestine, therefore it 
 is to be sweet ; it is forbidden, therefore it is to be 
 pleasant. Could anything be more sophistical ? That 
 which owes its attraction to the shadows of the night 
 must obviously be intrinsically unattractive. It is an 
 argument fit only for the shades of the lost, and not 
 for those who breathe the sweet air and behold the 
 sun. Her house is indeed haunted with ghosts, and 
 when a man enters her portal he already has his 
 foot in hell. Well may the LXX. add the vehement 
 warning, " Spring away from her clutches ; do not 
 linger in the place ; let her not have thy name, for thou 
 wilt traverse another's waters ; from another's waters 
 hold aloof, from another's fountains do not drink, in 
 order that thou mayest live long, and add to thy years 
 of Hfe." 
 
 And now, before leaving this subject, we must briefly 
 remark the great change and advance which Christ has 
 brought into our thought of the relation between the 
 two sexes. This Book of Wisdom is a fair illustration 
 of the contempt in which woman was held by the wise 
 men of Israel. One would suppose that she is the 
 temptress, and man is the victim. The teacher never 
 dreams of going a step backward, and asking whose 
 fault it was that the temptress fell into her vicious 
 ways. He takes no note of the fact that women are 
 first led astray before they lead others. Nor does he 
 care to inquire how the men of his day ruined their 
 women by refusing to them all mental training, all 
 wholesome interest and occupation, shutting them up 
 
ix. 14, 16.] TJVO VOICES IN THE HIGH PLACES. 133 
 
 in the corrupting atmosphere of the seraglio, and teach- 
 ing them to regard the domestic sphere, and that only 
 in its narrowest sense, as the proper Hmit of their 
 thought and affection. It was reserved for the Great 
 Teacher, the Incarnate Wisdom Himself, to redress this 
 age-long injustice to woman, by sternly holding up to 
 men the mirror of truth in which they might see their 
 own guilty hearts.^ It was reserved for him to touch 
 the conscience of a city woman who was a sinner, and 
 to bring her from her clamorous and seductive ways 
 to the sweetness of penitential tears, and the rapturous 
 love which forgiveness kindles. It is He, and not the 
 ancient Wisdom, which has turned the current of men's 
 thoughts into juster and kindlier ways on this great 
 question. And thus it is that the great Christian poet 
 represents the archangel correcting the faulty judgment 
 of man.^ Adam, speaking with the usual virtuous 
 indignation of the stronger sex in contemplation of 
 the soft vision of frail women presented to his eyes, 
 says : — 
 
 " O pit}' and shame, that they, who to live well 
 Entered so fair, should turn aside to tread 
 Paths indirect, or in the midway faint ! 
 But still I see the tenour of man's woe 
 Holds on the same, from woman to begin." 
 
 The correction is the correction of Christ, though 
 Michael is the speaker : — 
 
 " From man's effeminate slackness it begins," 
 Said the angel, "who should better hold his place, 
 By wisdom and superior gifts received." 
 
 Our Lord draws no such pictures as these in the 
 
 * See John viii. i ei seq. 
 
 ' Milton, Paradise Lost, xi. 650 etc. 
 
134 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 book of Proverbs ; they have their value ; it is neces- 
 sary to warn young men against the seductions which 
 the vices of other men have created in woman's form ; 
 but He prefers always to go to the root of the matter ; 
 He speaks to men themselves ; He bids them restrain 
 the wandering eye, and keep pure the fountains of 
 the heart. To that censorious Wisdom which judges 
 without any perception that woman is more sinned 
 against than sinning He would oppose His severe 
 command to be rid of the beam in one's own eye, 
 before making an attempt to remove the mote from 
 another's. It is in this way that He in so many 
 varied fields of thought and action has turned a half 
 truth into a whole truth by going a little deeper, and 
 unveihng the secrets of the heart ; and in this way 
 He has enabled us to use the half truth, setting it in 
 its right relation to the whole.^ 
 
 ^ The fuller teaching of the book on the subject of Woman will be 
 found in Lect. XXXI. 
 
X. 
 
 WEALTH. 
 
 "Treasures of wickedness profit nothing: 
 But righteousness dcUvereth from death." — Prov. x. 2. 
 
 "O'erweening statesmen have full long relied 
 On fleets and armies and external wealth ; 
 But from within proceeds a Nation's health." 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 NO moral system is complete which does not treat 
 with clearness and force the subject of wealth. 
 The material possessions of an individual or of a nation 
 are in a certain sense the pre-requisites of all moral life ; 
 for until the human being has food to eat he cannot be 
 virtuous, he cannot even live ; until he has clothing 
 he cannot be civilised ; and unless he has a moderate 
 assurance of necessaries, and a certain margin of leisure 
 secured from the toil of life, he cannot live w^ell, and 
 there can be no moral development in the full sense of 
 that term. And so with a nation : it must have a suffi- 
 cient command of the means of subsistence to maintain 
 a considerable number of people who are not engaged 
 in productive labour, before it can make much advance 
 in the noblest qualities of national fife, progress in the 
 arts, extension of knowledge, and spiritual cultivation. 
 The production of wealth, therefore, if not strictly 
 speaking a moral question itself, presses closely upon 
 all other moral questions. Wisdom must have some- 
 
136 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 thing to say about it, because, without it, Wisdom, in 
 a material world like ours, could not exist. 
 
 Wisdom will be called upon to direct the energies 
 which produce wealth, and to determine the feelings with 
 which we are to regard the wealth which is produced. 
 
 Moral problems weightier still begin to emerge when 
 the question of Distribution presents itself. Moral 
 considerations lie at the root of this question ; and 
 Political Economy, so far as it attempts to deal with it 
 apart from moral considerations, must always be merely 
 a speculative, and not a practical or a fruitful science. 
 
 If Production is in a sense the presupposition of all 
 moral and spiritual life, no less certainly correct moral 
 conceptions — may we not even say true spiritual con- 
 ditions ? — are the indispensable means of determining 
 Distribution. For a society in which every individual 
 is striving with all his strength or cunning to procure 
 for himself the largest possible share of the common 
 stock, in which therefore the material possessions gravi- 
 tate into the hands of the strong and the unscrupulous, 
 while the weak and the honourable are left destitute — 
 such a society, if it ever came into existence, would be 
 a demoralised society. Such a demoralisation is always 
 probable when the means of production have been 
 rapidly and greatly improved, and when the fever of 
 getting has overpowered the sense of righteousness and 
 all the kindlier human feelings. Such a demoralisation 
 is to be averted by securing attention to the abiding 
 moral principles which must govern men's action in the 
 matter of wealth, and by enforcing these principles with 
 such vividness of illustration and such cogency of sanc- 
 tion that they shall be generally accepted and practised. 
 
 In our own day this question of the distribution of 
 
.2.] IVEALTII. 137 
 
 wealth stands in the front rank of practical questions. 
 Religious teachers must face it, or else they must for- 
 feit their claim to be the guides and instructors of their 
 generation. 
 
 Socialists are grappling with this question not alto- 
 gether in a religious spirit : they have stepped into a gap 
 which Christians have left empty ; they have recognised 
 a great spiritual issue when Christians have seen nothing 
 but a material problem of pounds, shillings, and pence, 
 of supply and demand, of labour and capital. Where 
 Socialism adopts the programme of Revolution, Wisdom 
 cannot give in her adhesion ; she knows too well that 
 suffering, impatience, and despair are unsafe, although 
 very pathetic, counsellors; she knows too well that 
 social upheaval does not produce social reconstruction, 
 but a weary entail of fresh upheavals ; she has learnt, 
 too, that society is organic, and cannot, like Pelops in 
 the myth, win rejuvenescence by being cut up and cast 
 into the cauldron, but can advance only by a quiet and 
 continuous growth, in which each stage comes naturally 
 and harmoniously out of the stage which preceded. 
 But all Socialism is not revolutionary. And Wisdom 
 cannot withhold her sympathy and her aid where 
 Socialism takes the form of stating, and expounding, 
 and enforcing truer conceptions concerning the dis- 
 tribution of wealth. It is by vigorous and earnest 
 grappling with the moral problem that the way of 
 advance is prepared ; every sound lesson therefore in 
 the right way of regarding wealth, and in the use of 
 wealth, is a step in the direction of that social renova- 
 tion which all earnest men at present desire. 
 
 The book of Proverbs presents some very clear and 
 decisive teaching on this question, and it is our task 
 
13S THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 now to view this teaching, scattered and disconnected 
 though it be, as a whole. 
 
 I. The first thing to be noted in the book is its 
 frank and full recognition that Wealth has its advantages, 
 and Poverty has its disadvantages. There is no quixotic 
 attempt to overlook, as many moral and spiritual sys- 
 tems do, the perfectly obvious facts of Hfe. The extrava- 
 gance and exaggeration which led St. Francis to choose 
 Poverty as his bride find no more sanction in this Ancient 
 Wisdom than in the sound teaching of our Lord and His 
 Apostles. The rich man's wealth is his strong city,^ we 
 are told, and as an high wall in his own imagination, 
 while the destruction of the poor is their poverty. The 
 rich man can ransom himself from death if by chance 
 he has fallen into difficulties, though this benefit is to 
 some extent counterbalanced by the reflection that the 
 poor escape the threats of such dangers, as no bandit 
 would care to attack a man with an empty purse 
 and a threadbare cloak.- The rich man gains many 
 advantages through his power of making gifts ; it brings 
 him before great men,^ it procures him universal friend- 
 ship, such as it is,^ it enables him to pacify the anger of 
 an adversary,'^ for indeed a gift is as a precious stone in 
 the eyes of him that hath it, whithersoever it turneth it 
 prospereth.'^ Not only does wealth make many friends,^ 
 
 ^ Prov. X. 15 ; xviii. 1 1. ^ Prov. xviii. 16. '" Prov. xxi. I4. 
 
 ^ Prov. xiii. 8. ^ Prov. xix. 6 ; xiv. 20. 
 
 ^ Prov. xvii. 8. More literally: "A precious stone is the gift in the 
 eyes of him who gets possession of it, whithersoever he turneth he 
 deals wisely." That is to say, the man who receives the gift, whether 
 a judge or a witness or an opponent, is as it were retained for the 
 giver, and induced to use his best faculties in behalf of his retainer. 
 
 ^ Prov. xix. 4 : " Wealth addeth many friends, but the poor — his 
 companion separates from him." 
 
X. 2.] WEALTH. 139 
 
 it also secures positions- of influence and authority, over 
 those who are poorer, enabling a man to sit in Parlia- 
 ment or to gain the governorship of a colony.^ It gives 
 even the somewhat questionable advantage of being 
 able to treat others with brusqueness and hauteur." 
 
 On the other hand, the poor man has to use en- 
 treaties.'- His poverty separates him from his neigh- 
 bours, and even incurs his neighbours' hatred.^ Nay, 
 worse than this, his friends go far from him, his very 
 brethren hate him, if he calls after them they quickly 
 get out of his reach ; ^ while the necessity of borrow- 
 ing from wealthier men keeps him in a position of 
 continual bondage.^ Indeed, nothing can compensate 
 for being without the necessaries of life : " Better is he 
 that is hghtty esteemed, and is his own servant, than 
 he that honoureth himself, and lacketh bread." ^ 
 
 Since then Poverty is a legitimate subject of dread, 
 there are urgent exhortations to diligence and thrift, 
 quite in accordance with the excellent apostolic maxim 
 that if a man will not work he shall not eat ; while there 
 are forcible statements of the things which tend to 
 poverty, and of the courses which result in comfort and 
 wealth. Thus it is pointed out how slack and listless 
 labour leads to poverty, while industry leads to wealth.'' 
 
 ^ Prov. xxii. 17. - Prov. xviii. 23. ^ Prov. xiv. 20 ; xix. 4. 
 
 * Prov. xix. 7, The sense of the Authorised Version is here re- 
 tained, but it will be seen in Lecture XII. that there is good rea- 
 son for treating the third clause of the verse as a mutilated fragment 
 of another proverb : see p. 166. 
 
 '" Prov. xxii. 7. 
 
 •* Prov. xii. 9. This reading is obtained by following the LXX., 
 whose translation 6 oovKevijiv eavrcp shows that they pointed r? ^"^V]. 
 C/. Ecclcs. X. 27: "Better is he that laboureth and aboundclh in all 
 things than he that boasteth himself and lacketh bread." 
 
 • Prov. X. 4. 
 
140 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 We are reminded that the obstinate refusal to be cor- 
 rected is a fruitful source of poverty/ while the humble 
 and pious mir ' ' rewarded with riches as well as 
 with honour an^ Aq} In the house of the wise man 
 are found treasures as well as all needful supplies.^ 
 Drunkenness and gluttony lead to poverty, and drowsi- 
 ness clothes a m." with rags.^ And there is a beautiful 
 injunction to eng ge in an agricultural life, which is the 
 only perennial soi rce of wealth, the only secure founda- 
 tion of a people's prosperity. As if we were back in 
 patriarchal times, we are thus admonished in the later 
 proverbs of Solomon ° : — 
 
 " Be thou diligent to know the state of thy flocks, 
 And look well to thy herds ; 
 For riches are not for ever ; 
 
 And doth the crown endure unto all generations? 
 The hay is carried, and the tender grass showeth itself, 
 And the herbs of the mountains are gathered in. 
 The lambs are for thy clothing. 
 And the goats are the price of the field : 
 And there will be goats' milk enough for thy food, for the food 
 
 of thy household ; 
 And maintenance for thy maidens." 
 
 II. But now, making all allowance for the advantages 
 of wealth, we have to notice some of its serious draw- 
 backs. To begin with, it is always insecure. If a man 
 places any dependence upon it, it will fail him ; only in 
 his imagination is it a sure defence.*^ '' Wilt thou set 
 thine e3^es upon it ? it is gone. For riches certainly 
 make themselves wings, like an eagle that flieth toward 
 heaven." ^ 
 
 ^ Prov. xiii. 1 8. * Pro v. xxiii. 2i. Prov. xi. 28. 
 
 * Prov. xxii. 4. * Prov. xxvii. 23-27. ' Prov. xxiii. 5 (marg.). 
 
 ' Prov. xxi. 20. 
 
X. 2.] WEALTH. 
 
 141 
 
 But, further, if the wealth has been obtained in any 
 other way than by honest labour it is useless, at any rate 
 for the owner, and indeed worse '" " seless for him.^ 
 
 As the text says, treasures or. .xkedness profit 
 nothing. In the revenues of the wii^ked is trouble.^ 
 Got in light and fallacious ways, tlie money dwindles ; 
 only when gathered by labour does t really increase.^ 
 When it is obtained by falsehood-^.£>y the tricks and 
 misrepresentations of trade, for ex .mple — it may be 
 likened to a vapour driven to and fro — nay, rather to 
 a mephitic vapour, a deadly exhalation, the snares of 
 death.'* Worst of all is it to obtain wealth by oppres- 
 sion of the poor ; one who does so shall as surely come 
 to want as he who gives money to those who do not 
 need it.^ In fact, our book contains the striking thought 
 that ill-earned wealth is never gathered for the benefit of 
 the possessor, but only for the benefit of the righteous, 
 and must be useless until it gets into hands which will 
 use it benevolently.^ 
 
 And while there are these serious drawbacks to 
 material possessions, we are further called upon to 
 notice that there is wealth of another kind, wealth 
 consisting in moral or spiritual qualities, compared with 
 
 ' Cf. the Turkish proverb : " Of riches lawfully gained the devil 
 takes half, of riches unlawfully gained he takes the whole and the 
 owner too." 
 
 - Prov. XV. 6, cf. xiv. 24. " A crown of the wise is their riches, but 
 the folly of fools, (though they be rich, remains nothing but) folly." 
 
 ' Prov. xiii. II. 
 
 * Prov. xxi. 6. It is evident from their translation iirl irayiba^ davdrov 
 that the LXX. read ri10'"'t^'piD as in Psalm xviii. 6, and this gives 
 a very graphic and striking sense, while the received text of the 
 Hebrew, n)1Z-^'^p2D, is hardly intelligible. 
 
 * Prov. xxii. 16. * Prov. xiii. 22; xxviii. 8. 
 
142 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 which wealth, as it is usually understood, is quite paltry 
 and unsatisfying. When the intrinsic defects of silver 
 and gold have been frankly stated, this earthy treasure 
 is set, as a whole, in comparison with another kind 
 of treasure, and is observed to become pale and dim. 
 Thus '' riches profit not in the day of wrath, but 
 righteousness delivereth from death." ^ Indeed it is 
 only the blessing of the Lord which brings riches 
 Vv^ithout drawbacks.^ In the house of the righteous is 
 much treasure.^ Better is a little with righteousness 
 than great treasure without right.^ In the light of 
 these moral considerations the relative positions of the 
 rich and the poor are reversed ; it is better to be an 
 honest poor man than a perverse rich man ; the little 
 grain of integrity in the heart and life outweighs all 
 the balance at the bank.'^ 
 
 A little wisdom, a little sound understanding, or 
 a Httle wholesome knowledge is more precious than 
 wealth. How much better is it to get wisdom than 
 gold. Yea, to get understanding is rather to be 
 chosen than silver.^ There may be gold and abund- 
 ance of rubies, but the lips of knowledge are a precious 
 jewel.'' 
 
 Na}', there are some things apparently very trifling 
 
 * Prov. xi. 4. ^ Prov. xv. 6. 
 
 ' Prov. X. 22. * Prov. xvi. 8. 
 
 ^ Prov. xix. I. The parallelism in this verse is not so complete 
 as in xxviii. 6. The Peshitto reads, " than he who is perverse 
 in his lips and is rich," but it is better to retain the text and under- 
 stand : There is a poor man walking in his integrity, and everyone 
 thinks that he is to be commiserated ; but he is much better off than 
 the fool with perverse lips, though no one thinks of commiserating 
 this last. 
 
 ^ Prov. xvi. 16. ' Prov. xx. 15. 
 
X. 2.1 WEALTH. 
 
 M3 
 
 which will so depreciate material wealth that if a choice 
 is to be made it is well to let the wealth go and to 
 purchase immunity from these trivial troubles. Better 
 is a little with the fear of the Lord than great treasure 
 and trouble therewith. Better is a dinner of herbs 
 where love is than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.^ 
 Better is a dry morsel and c|uietness therewith than an 
 house full of feasting with strife.^ Yes, the good will 
 and affectionate regard of our fellow-men are on the 
 whole far more valuable than a large revenue. A good 
 name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and 
 loving favour rather than silver and gold.^ Indeed, 
 when the relations of the rich and the poor are brought 
 up into God's presence our whole conception of the 
 matter is liable to change ; we observe the rich and 
 the poor meet together, and the Lord the maker of them 
 all;"^ we observe that any slur cast on the poor or any 
 oppression of them is practically a reproach against 
 the Maker,^ whilst any act of pity or tenderness to the 
 needy is in effect a service rendered to God ; and more 
 and more v/e get to feel that notwithstanding the rich 
 man's good opinion of himself he presents rather a 
 sorry spectacle in the presence of the wise, even though 
 the wise may be exceedingly poor.'' 
 
 ' Prov. XV. 16, 17. - Prov, xvii. I. 
 
 ' Prov.xxii. i. This proverb is inscribed in the cupola which lights 
 the Manchester Exchange. It is a good skylight, but apparently too 
 high up for the busy merchants on the floor of the Exchange to sec 
 without more effort than is to be expected of them. 
 
 * Prov. xxii. 2. '" Prov. xiv. 31 ; xvii. 5. 
 
 ** Prov. xxviii. 1 1. Cf. an interesting addition to xvii, 6 in the LXX. 
 — ToO TTiffTov 6'Xos 6 k6(J[xo$ rQ}v xpVf^o.TU}u ToO 8^ airlcTTOv ovbk 6^ok6s. 
 The faithful man owns the whole world of possessions, the unfaithful 
 owns not a farthinsr. 
 
144 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 Taking into account therefore the intrinsic insecurity 
 of wealth, and the terrible flaws in the title which 
 may result from questionable ways of obtaining it, and 
 estimating at a right value the other things which are not 
 usually reckoned as wealth, — goodness, piety, wisdom, 
 knowledge, and love, — we can quite understand that 
 enlightened men might be too busy in life to make 
 money, too occupied with grave purposes and engrossed 
 with noble objects of pursuit to admit the perturbations 
 of mammon into their souls.^ Making all allowance 
 for the unquestionable advantages of being rich, and 
 the serious inconveniences of being poor, we may yet 
 see reasons for not greatly desiring wealth, nor greatly 
 dreading poverty. 
 
 III. But now we come to the positive counsels which 
 our Teacher would give on the strength of these con- 
 siderations about money and its acquisition. And first 
 of all we are solemnly cautioned against the fever of 
 money-getting, the passion to get rich, a passion which 
 has the most demoralising effect on its victims, and 
 is indeed an indication of a more or less perverted 
 character. The good man cannot be possessed by it, 
 and if he could he would soon become bad.^ 
 
 These grave warnings of Wisdom are specially 
 needed at the present time in England and America, 
 when the undisguised and the unrestrained pursuit of 
 riches has become more and more recognised as the 
 legitimate end of life, so that few people feel any shame 
 
 ' It is said of Agassiz that he excused himself from engaging in a pro- 
 fitable lecturing tour on the ground that he had not time to make money. 
 
 * Cf. the saying of Sirach : "Winnow not with every wind and go 
 not into every way, for so doth the sinner that hath a double tongue " 
 (Eccles. V. .9). 
 
WEALTH. 145 
 
 in admitting that this is their aim ; aiid the clear unim- 
 passioned statements of the result, which always follows 
 on the unhallowed passion, receive daily confirmation 
 from the occasional revelations of our domestic, our 
 commercial, and our criminal life. He that is greedy 
 of gain, we are told, troubleth his own house. ^ An 
 inheritance may be gotten hastily at the beginning, 
 but the end thereof shall not be blessed.^ A faithful 
 man shall abound with blessings, but he that maketh 
 haste to be rich (and consequently cannot by any 
 possibility be faithful) shall not be unpunished.^ He 
 that hath an evil eye hasteth after riches, and knoweth 
 not that want shall come upon him.^ " Weary not 
 thyself," therefore, it is said, '' to be rich ; " which, 
 though it may be the dictate of thine own wisdom,^ is 
 really unmixed folly, burdened with a load of calamity 
 for the unfortunate seeker, for his house, and for all 
 those who are in any way dependent upon him. 
 
 Again, while we are cautioned not to aim constantly 
 at the increase of our possessions, we are counselled 
 to exercise a generous liberality in the disposal of such 
 things as are ours. Curiously enough, niggardliness in 
 giving is associated with slothfulness in labour, while 
 it is implied that the wish to help others is a constant 
 motive for due diligence in the business of life. " There 
 is that coveteth greedily all the day long, but the righ- 
 teous giveth and withholdeth not." '^ The law of nature, 
 — the law of life, — is to give out and not merely to 
 receive, and in fulfilling that law we receive unexpected 
 blessings : '' There is that scattereth and increaseth yet 
 
 ' Prov. XV. 27. ' Prov. xxviii. 22. 
 
 * Prov. XX. 21. * Prov. xxiii. 4. 
 
 * Prov. xxviii. 20. " Prov. xxi. 26. 
 
 10 
 
146 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 more, and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, 
 and it tendeth only to want. The Hberal soul shall be 
 made fat ; and he that watereth shall be watered also 
 himself." ^ '' He that giveth to the poor shall not lack ; 
 but he that hideth his eyes shall have many a curse." ^ 
 ^' He that hath pity on the poor lendeth unto the Lord, 
 and his good deed will He pay him again." " '^ He that 
 hath a bountiful eye shall be blessed ; for he giveth of 
 his bread to the poor." ^ 
 
 Such a wholesome shunning of the thirst for wealth, 
 and such a generous spirit in aiding others, naturally 
 suggest to the wise man a daily prayer, a request that 
 he may avoid the dangerous extremes, and walk in the 
 happy mean of worldly possessions : ''Give me neither 
 poverty nor riches ; feed me with the food that is need- 
 ful for me ; lest I be full and deny thee, and say. Who 
 is the Lord ? or lest I be poor and steal, and use pro- 
 fanely the name of my God." '" It is a request not 
 easy to make with perfect sincerity ; there are not many 
 who, like. Emerson's grandfather, venture to pray that 
 neither they nor their descendants may ever be rich ; 
 while there have been not a few who in a " show of 
 wisdom in will-worship and humility and severity to 
 the body" have sought for an unnecessary and an 
 unwholesome poverty. But it is a wise request ; it 
 finds an echo in the prayer which our Lord taught 
 His disciples, and constantly appears inwoven in the 
 apostolic teaching. And if the individual is to desire 
 such things for himself, he must naturally desire that 
 such may be the lot of his fellow-creatures, and he 
 
 ' Prov. xi. 24, 25. * Prov. xxii. 9. 
 
 ^ Prov. xxviii. 27. * Prov xxx. 8, 9. 
 
 ' Prov. xix. 17. 
 
X.2.] IVEALTII. 147 
 
 must make it the aim of his efforts after social reform 
 to indefinitely increase the number of those who occupy 
 this happy middle position, and have neither riches nor 
 poverty. 
 
 And now we have followed the lines of teaching 
 contained in this book on the subject of wealth, and 
 it is impossible to miss the wisdom, the moderation, the 
 inspiration of such counsels. We cannot fail to see 
 that if these principles were recognised universally, and 
 very generally practised ; if they were ingrained in the 
 constitution of our children, so as to become the in- 
 stinctive motives and guides of action ; the serious 
 social troubles which arise from the unsatisfactory 
 distribution of wealth would rapidly disappear. Happy 
 would that society be in which all men were aiming, 
 not at riches, but merely at a modest competency, 
 dreading the one extreme as much as the other ; in 
 which the production of w^ealth were constantly 
 moderated and controlled by the conviction that wealth 
 gotten by vanity is as the snares of death ; in which all 
 who had become the owners of wealth were ready to 
 give and glad to distribute, counting a wise benevolence, 
 which in giving to the needy really lends to the Lord, 
 the best investment in the world. 
 
 If these neglected principles are hitherto very faintly 
 recognised, we must recollect that they have never been 
 seriously preached. Although they were theoretically 
 taught, and practically lived out, in the words and 
 the life of Jesus Christ, they have never been fully 
 incorporated into Christianity. The mediaeval Church 
 fell into the perilous doctrines of the Ebionites, and 
 glorified poverty in theory while in practice it became 
 an engine of unparalleled rapacity. Protestantism has 
 
148 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 generally been too much occupied with the great prin- 
 ciple of Justification by Faith to pay much attention to 
 such a writing as the Epistle of St. James, which Luther 
 described as " a letter of straw " ; and thus, while we 
 all believe that we ai;e saved by faith in Christ Jesus, 
 it seldom occurs to us that such a faith must include 
 the most exact and literal obedience to His teachings. 
 Christian men unblushingly serve Mammon, and yet 
 hope that they are serving God too, because they be- 
 lieve on Him whom God sent — though He whom God 
 sent expressly declared that the two services could not 
 be combined. Christian men make it the effort of a 
 lifetime to become rich, although Christ declared that 
 it was easier for a camel to enter the eye of a needle 
 than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven ; 
 and when they hear that Christ required an intending 
 follower to sell all that he had and give to the poor, 
 they explain it away, and maintain that He does not 
 require such a sacrifice from them, but simply asks 
 them to believe in the Atonement. 
 
 In this way Christians have made their religion 
 incredible, and even ridiculous, to many of the most 
 earnest spirits of our time. When Christ is made unto 
 them Wisdom as well as Redemption, they will see 
 that the principles of Wisdom which concern wealth 
 are obligatory upon them, just because they profess to 
 believe in Christ. 
 
XL 
 
 GOODNESS. 
 
 "The righteousness of the upright shall deliver them." — Prov. xi. 6. 
 " An unjust man is the abomination of the righteous, and he who goes 
 right in his way is the abomination of the wicked." — Prov. xxix. 27. 
 
 THE book of Proverbs abounds with sayings which 
 have the sound of truisms, sayings which repeat, 
 with innumerable variations and shades of colouring, 
 that wickedness is an evil, hateful to God and to men, 
 and that righteousness is a blessing not only to the 
 righteous themselves, but to all with whom they are 
 connected. We are disposed to say. Surely no reason- 
 able person can question such an obvious truth ; but 
 on reflection we remember that the truth was not per- 
 ceived by the great religions of antiquity, is not recog- 
 nised now by the vast majority of the human race, and 
 even where it is theoretically admitted without question 
 is too frequently forgotten in the hurry and the pres- 
 sure of practical life. There is good reason therefore 
 why the truism, as we are inclined to call it, should 
 be thrown into the form of maxims which will find a 
 hold in the memory, and readily occur to the mind on 
 occasions of trial. And as we pass in review what 
 Proverbial Religion has to say upon the subject, we 
 shall perhaps be surprised to find how imperfectly we 
 
150 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 have apprehended the supreme importance of goodness, 
 and how insidiously teachings, which were originally 
 meant to enforce it, have usurped its place and treated 
 it with contumely. It will begin to dawn upon us that 
 the truth is a truism, not because it is carried out in 
 practice, but only because no one has the hardihood to 
 question it ; and perhaps we shall receive some impulse 
 towards transforming the conviction which we cannot 
 dispute into a mode of conduct which we cannot decline. 
 
 To begin with, our book is most unflinching in its 
 assertions that, notwithstanding all appearances to the 
 contrary, wickedness is a mistakcy a source of perpetual 
 weakness and insecurity, always in the long run pro- 
 ducing ruin and death ; while righteousness is in itself 
 a perpetual blessing, and is weighted with beautiful and 
 unexpected fruits. The very reiteration becomes most 
 impressive. 
 
 The hope of the righteous shall be gladness ; but the 
 expectation of the wicked shall perish.^ The righteous 
 shall never be removed, but the wicked shall not dwell 
 in the land,^ The house of the wicked shall be over- 
 thrown, but the tent of the upright shall flourish.^ The 
 wicked earneth deceitful wages, but he that soweth 
 righteousness hath a sure reward.^ A man shall not 
 be established by wickedness, while the root of the 
 righteous shall never be moved.^ The wicked really 
 falls by his own wickedness, and is swept away by 
 his own violence.^ He sows iniquity and reaps 
 
 ^ Prov. X. 28. 2 Prov. x. 30. 
 
 ^ Prov. xiv. II. Cf. Prov. xii. 7: "Overthrow the wicked; and 
 they are not {i.e., there is no rising again for them), but the house 
 of the righteous shall stand." 
 
 * Prov. xi. 18. ^ Prov. xiii. 3. ^ Prov. xi. 5, 6; xxi. 7. 
 
xi. 6, xxix, 27.] GOODNESS. 
 
 calamity.^ His crooked way, his malignant thoughts, 
 the hatred against his neighbour, the guile in his heart, 
 and the flood of evil things which comes out of his lips, 
 have one issue — destruction.-^ When he comes to die, 
 his expectation perishes, all the hope of iniquity ends in 
 disappointment.^ His lamp goes out not to be relit.'* 
 Meanwhile, the light of the righteous man rejoices, 
 because he attains unto life as surely as the wicked 
 works towards death.^ 
 
 It is true that the appearance of things is different. 
 Hand joins in hand to promote evil.^ . Men follow out 
 what seems right in their own hearts, evil as they are."^ 
 Success seems to attend them, and one is tempted to 
 envy the sinners, and to fret at their ways.^ But the 
 envy is misplaced ; the evil man does not go un- 
 punished; the wicked are overthrown and are not.^ 
 The way which seemed right in a man's eyes proves to 
 be the way of death. ^'^ A righteous man falleth seven 
 times and riseth up again ; but the wicked are over- 
 thrown by calamity, ^^ and the righteous are obliged to 
 look upon their fall.-^^ 
 
 On the other hand, goodness is its own continual 
 reward. While treacherous men are destroyed by 
 their perverseness, the upright are guided by their own 
 integrity.-^^ While the sinner is overthrown by his 
 wickedness, righteousness guardeth him that is upright 
 
 ' Prov. xxii. 8. ' Prow xiv. 12 ; xvi. 5, 25 xxi. 2^ 
 - Prov.xxi. 7,8, 10, 15; xxvi.24, ^ Prov. xxiii. 17, iS; xxiv. I, 19. 
 
 26; XV. 28. '•' Prov. xii. 7. 
 
 ' Prov. xi. 7. '" Prov. xiv. 12; xvi. 25. 
 
 * Prov. xiii. 9; xxiv. 20. " Prov. xxiv. 15, 16. 
 
 * Prov. xi. 19. '- Prov. xxix. 16. 
 •* Prov. xi. 21. '^ Prov. xi. 3. 
 
152 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 in the way.^ If the righteous gets into trouble he is 
 delivered, while the wicked falls into his place : ^ there 
 is a kind of substitution ; a ransom is paid to enable 
 the righteous to escape, and the ransom is the person 
 of the wicked.^ Not only does the righteous come out 
 of trouble, "^ but, strictly speaking, no mischief really 
 happens to him ; it is only the wicked that is filled with 
 evil.^ The righteous eats to the satisfying of his own 
 soul, but the belly of the wicked shall want.^ The 
 good man walks on a highway and so preserves his 
 soul."^ Mercy and truth shine upon him because he 
 devises good.^ He only followed after righteousness 
 and mercy, but he found life, righteousness, and 
 honour.^ His heart is flooded with joy, he actually 
 sings as he journeys on.^° He seems Hke a tree in the 
 green leaf, a tree of life, the fruits of which cannot fail to 
 be attractive ; so that he unconsciously wins favour.^^ 
 The fruit does not fail, because the root is alive.^^ 
 And if in actual Hfe this blessedness of the good man 
 does not appear, if by reason of the evil in the world 
 the righteous seem to be punished, and the noble to be 
 
 ^ Prov. xiii. 6. Cf. Prov. xiv. 14 : " The backslider in heart shall be 
 sated from his own ways, and the good man from himself." Though 
 probably we ought to read, with Nowack, 1 v^l^^P, which would give 
 a completer parallelism : " The backslider shall be sated from his own 
 ways, and the good man from his own doings." 
 
 ^ Prov. xi. 8. Cf. Prov. xxviii. 18. ® Prov. xiii. 25. 
 
 ' Prov. xxi. 18. ^ Prov. xvi. 17; xix. 16. 
 
 * Prov. xii. 13. ^ Prov. xiv. 22. 
 
 ^ Prov. xii. 21. ' Prov. xxi. 21. 
 
 '" Prov. xxi. 15; xxix. 6. Unless, with Delitzsch, we are to read 
 r'^D3 for r^D?, and V-1T for j-IT, which would give : " In the steps 
 of a bad man lie snares, but the righteous runs and rejoices." 
 
 " Prov. xi. 27, 30. ''^ Prov. xii. 12. 
 
xi.6, xxix. 27.] GOODNESS. 153 
 
 smitten,^ that only creates a conviction that the fruit 
 will grow in another life ; for when we have closely 
 observed the inseparable connection between goodness 
 and blessedness, we cannot avoid the conviction that 
 ^' the righteous hath hope in his death." ^ Yes, practical 
 goodness is the source of perpetual blessing, and it can- 
 not be altogether hidden. Even a child maketh himself 
 known by his doings, whether his work be pure and 
 right. ^ To the good we must assign the supremacy; 
 the evil must bow before them and wait at their gates.* 
 And it is easy to understand why it appears so incon- 
 gruous — so abnormal, like a troubled fountain and a 
 corrupted spring, when the righteous give way to the 
 wicked.^ 
 
 Nor is the blessing of goodness at all limited to the 
 good man himself. It falls on his children too. A 
 just man that walketh in his integrity, blessed are his 
 children after him.^ It reaches even to the third gene- 
 ration. A good man leaveth an inheritance to his 
 children's children."^ The righteous is a guide to his 
 neighbour also.^ He is a joy to his sovereign ; he 
 that loveth pureness of heart, for the grace of his lips 
 the king shall be his friend.^ His character and his 
 well-being are a matter of public, even of national 
 
 ' Prov. xvii, 26 : " To punish the righteous is not good, nor to smite 
 the noble for their uprightness." 
 
 ^ Prov. xiv. 32. * Prov. xiv. 19. 
 
 ' Prov. XX. II. • Prov. xxv. 26. 
 
 ^ Prov. xiv. 26 : " In the fear of the Lord is strong confidence : 
 and his children shall have a place of refuge." So Prov. xx. 7 : " A 
 just man that walketh in his integrity: blessed are his children after 
 him." 
 
 ^ Prov. xiii. 22. " Prov. xii. 26. 
 
 " Prov. xxii. ii. Cf. Prov. xvi. 13. 
 
154 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 concern, for there is something winning in him ; he 
 acts as a saving influence upon those who are around 
 him.^ Therefore, when the righteous increase the 
 people rejoice,^ when they triumph there is great glory.^ 
 When it goeth well with the righteous the city rejoiceth, 
 just as when the wicked perish there is shouting. By 
 the blessing of the upright the city is exalted, just as 
 it is overthrown by the mouth of the wicked.* Yes, 
 righteousness exalteth a nation, while sin is a reproach 
 to the whole people.^ 
 
 It is the grand public interest to see the wicked perish 
 in order that the righteous may increase : ^ for the wa}- 
 of the wicked causes other people to err.*^ His lips 
 are like a scorching fire ; ^ his presence brings a general 
 atmosphere of contempt, ignominy, and shame.^ When 
 the wucked rise men hide themselves,^*^ when they bear 
 rule the people sigh.^^ Well may the national feeling 
 be severe on all those who encourage the wicked in 
 any way. He that saith unto the wicked, Thou art 
 righteous, peoples shall curse him, nations shall abhor 
 him ; but to them that rebuke him shall be delight, and 
 a good blessing shall come upon them.^^ It is a sure 
 sign that one is forsaking the law when one ceases to 
 contend with the wicked and begins to praise them.^^ 
 
 Blessing to himself, blessing to his children, his 
 neighbours, his country, is the beautiful reward of the 
 good man ; ruin to himself, a spreading contagion of 
 evil to others, and general execration, is the lot of 
 
 * Prov. xi. 31. '^ Prov. xxviii. 28. ^° Pro v. xxviii. 28. 
 - Prov. xxix. 2. ' Prov. xii. 26. " Prov. xxix. 2. 
 
 ^ Prov. xxviii. 12. ^ Prov. xvi. 27. '^ Prov. xxiv. 24, 25. 
 
 * Prov. xi. 10, II. ^ Prov, xviii. 3. ^^ Prov. xxviii. 4. 
 ^ Prov. xiv. 34. 
 
xi. 6, xxix. 27.] GOODNESS. 155 
 
 the wicked. Well may the former be bold as a lion, 
 and well may the latter flee when no man pursues, for 
 conscience makes cowards of us all.^ 
 
 But at present we have not touched on the chief 
 blessedness of the good, and the chief curse of the evil, 
 on that which is really the spring and fountain-head of 
 all. It is the great fact that God is with the rigJitcous 
 and against the wicked^ that He judges men according to 
 their integrity or perverseness, and accepts them or 
 rejects them simply upon that principle. By looking 
 at this lofty truth we get all our conceptions on the 
 subject cleared. The perverse in heart are an abomin- 
 ation to the Lord ; such as are perfect in their way are 
 His delight.^ A good man shall obtain favour of the 
 Lord, but a man of wicked devices will He condemn.^ 
 Evil devices are an abomination to the Lord,'^ and so is 
 the wicked, but He loveth the righteous.^ To justify 
 the wicked or to condemn the righteous is equally 
 abominable to Him.^ He considers the house of 
 the wicked, how the wicked are overthrown to their 
 ruin.^ He overthrows the words of the treacherous man, 
 while His eyes preserve him that hath knowledge.^ He 
 weighs the heart and keeps the soul and renders to 
 every man according to his work.^ Thus His way is 
 a stronghold to the upright, but a destruction to the 
 workers of iniquity.-^*^ He does not regard prayer so 
 much as righteousness ; he that turneth away his ear 
 from hearing the law, even his prayer is an abomina- 
 
 ' Prov. xxviii. I. ^ Pro v. xii. 2. * Prov. xv. 9. 
 
 - Prov. xi. 20. ■• Prov. xv. 26. ^ Prov. xvii. 15, 26; xviii. 5. 
 
 ' Prov. xxi. 12, where "one that is righteous" seems to mean God 
 Himself; see the margin of R.V. 
 * Prov. xxii. 12. ' Prov. xxiv. 12. '" Prov. x. 29. 
 
IS6 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 tion.^ Sacrifice goes for nothing in His sight if the life is 
 not holy. To do justice and judgment is more acceptable 
 to the Lord than sacrifice.^ The sacrifice of the wicked 
 is an abomination : how much more when he bringeth 
 it with a wicked mind ? ^ Yes, it is an abomination 
 to the Lord, just as the prayer of the upright is His 
 dehght. The Lord is far from the wicked, but He 
 heareth the prayer of the righteous.^ When the foolish 
 sinner offers a sin-offering instead of relinquishing his 
 sin, the very offering mocks him, for it is only the 
 righteous who find favour with the Lord,^ 
 
 It is this solemn truth, the truth of God's own way 
 of regarding goodness and wickedness, which makes 
 earnestness on the subject essential. If goodness were 
 only pleasing to man, if sin were only an offence against 
 creatures like ourselves, ordinary prudence would 
 require us to be good and to avoid evil, but higher 
 sanction would be wanting. When, however, the 
 matter is taken up into the Divine presence, and we 
 begin to understand that the Supreme Ruler of all 
 things loves righteousness and hates iniquity, visits the 
 one with favour and the other with reprobation, quite 
 a new sanction is introduced. The wicked man, who 
 makes light of evil, to whom it is as a sport, appears to 
 be nothing short of an absolute fool.^ In God's presence 
 it is not difficult to perceive that goodness is wisdom, 
 the only wisdom, the perfect wisdom. 
 
 ' Prov. xxv'iii. 9. ^ Prov. xxi. 27. 
 
 ^ Prov. xxi. 3. •* Prov. xv. 8, 29. 
 
 ^ Prov. xiv. 9. This seems to be the meaning of this difficult verse, 
 which should be translated : The sin-offering mocks fools, but among 
 the righteous is favour. 
 
 * Prov. X. 23. 
 
xi. 6, xxix. 27.] GOODNESS. 157 
 
 But now it may occur to some of us that it is surely 
 nothing very wonderful to lay this stress upon the 
 close connection between goodness and God-pleasing. 
 Is it not, we are inclined to sa}', the most obvious and 
 unquestioned of facts that God requires goodness at 
 our hands, and is angry with the wicked every day ? 
 It is not very wonderful to us, because Revelation 
 has made it familiar, but none the less it is a truth 
 of Revelation, and if we were to ask in what the 
 Inspiration of this book consists, no simpler and truer 
 answer could be given than that it teaches, as we have 
 just seen, the alHance of God with righteousness and 
 the abhorrence in which He holds wickedness. 
 
 Yes, a truism, but it was a discovery which the world 
 was very slow to make, and it is still a principle on 
 which the world is very unwilling to act. 
 
 The main characteristic of all heathen religions is 
 that their gods do not demand righteousness, but certain 
 outward and formal observances ; sacrifices must be 
 offered to them, their vindictive temper must be pro- 
 pitiated, their anger averted ; if the dues of the gods 
 are paid, the stipulated quantity of corn and wine and 
 oil, the tithes, the firstfruits, the animals for the altar, 
 the tribute for the temple, then the worshipper who 
 has thus discharged his obligations may feel himself 
 free to follow out his own tastes and inclinations. In 
 the Roman religion, for example, every dealing with 
 the gods was a strictly legal contract ; the Roman 
 general agreed with Jupiter or with Mars that if the 
 battle should be won a temple should be built. It was 
 not necessary that the cause should be right, or that 
 the general should be good ; the sacrifice of the wicked, 
 though offered with an evil intent, was as valid as the 
 
I5S THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 sacrifice of the good. In either case the same amount 
 of marble and stone, of silver and gold, would come to 
 the god. 
 
 In the Eastern rehgions not only were goodness and 
 righteousness dissociated from the idea of the gods, but 
 evil of the grossest kinds was definitely associated with 
 them. The Phoenician deities, like those of the Hindoos, 
 were actually worshipped with rites of murder and lust. 
 Every vice had its patron god or goddess, and it was 
 forgotten by priest and people that goodness could be 
 the way of pleasing God, or moral evil a cause of offence 
 to Him. 
 
 Even in Israel, where the teaching of Revelation was 
 current in the proverbs of the people, the practice 
 generally followed the heathen conceptions. All the 
 burning protests of the inspired prophets could not 
 avail to convince the Israelite that what God required 
 was not sacrifice and offering, but to do justice, to 
 love mercy, and to walk humbly with Him. Again and 
 again we find that the high places were frequented and 
 the ritual supported by men who were sensual, unjust, 
 and cruel. The Sabbath Day was kept, the feasts 
 were duly observed, the priests were handsomely 
 maintained, and there, it was supposed, the legitimate 
 claims of Jehovah ceased. What more could He 
 desire ? 
 
 This is surely the most impressive proof that the 
 Truth which is under consideration is far from being 
 obvious. Israel himself, the chosen channel for com- 
 municating this truth to the world, was so slow to 
 understand and to grasp it, that his religious observ- 
 ances were constantly degenerating into lifeless cere- 
 monies devoid of all moral significance, and his religious 
 
xi.6,xxix. 27.] GOODNESS. 159 
 
 teachers were'mainly occupied in denouncing his conduct 
 as wholly inconsistent with the truth. 
 
 So far from treating the truth as a truism, our Lord 
 in all His teaching laboured to bring it out in greater 
 clearness, and to set it in the forefront of His message 
 to men. He made it the very keynote of the Gospel 
 that not every one who says. Lord, Lord, shall enter 
 into the kingdom of heaven, but he that doeth the will 
 of His Father in heaven. He painted with exquisite 
 simplicity and clearness the right life, the conduct 
 which God requires of us, and then likened every one 
 who practised this hfe to a man who builds his house 
 on a rock, and every one who does not practise it to 
 a man who builds his house on the sand. He declared, 
 in the spirit of all that we have just read from the 
 book of Proverbs, that teachers were to be judged by 
 their fruits, and that God would estimate our lives not 
 by what we professed to do, but by what we did; and 
 He took up the very language of the book in declar- 
 ing that every man should be judged according to his 
 works.^ In every word He spoke He made it plain 
 that goodness is what God loves, and that wickedness 
 is what He judges and destroys. In the same way 
 every one of the Apostles insists on this truth with a 
 new earnestness. St. John more especially reiterates 
 it, in words which sound even more like a truism than 
 the sayings of this book : " He that doeth righteousness 
 is righteous even as He is righteous ; " and, " If ye know 
 that Pie is righteous, ye know that every one also that 
 doeth righteousness is begotten of Him." - 
 
 The Gospel itself is accompanied by a new and more 
 
 ' Matt. xvi. 27. 2 I John iii. 7, 10; ii. 29. 
 
i6o THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 earnest assertion of this cardinal truth, that God loves 
 goodness, and that He judges men according to their 
 works. And even now, after many centuries of Christian 
 faith, and notwithstanding all the teachings of the Bible 
 and the witness of the Spirit, it is very difficult for many 
 of us to understand that religion is goodness, and 
 religion without goodness is impiety of the worst kind. 
 It is supposed by some, in face of all the accumulated 
 truth and wisdom of the ages which have passed since 
 this book was written, that God's last and highest 
 message is a dispensation from practical righteousness 
 — that the Gospel of Grace means God's willingness to 
 accept men because they believe, apart from the actual 
 goodness to which all faith is calculated to lead ; as if 
 the Gospel were an announcement that God had entirely 
 changed His nature, and that all the best and noblest 
 teachings of His Spirit in the past were set aside by 
 His final revelation. Behind some figment or other, 
 some perverted notion of imputed righteousness, men 
 try to hide their guilty countenance, and to persuade 
 themselves that now, in virtue of the Cross, they can 
 see God without holiness, without purity of heart. 
 Heaven has been treated as a place where men can 
 enter who work abomination and make a lie ; and in 
 order to secure a full acceptance for our dogma we try 
 to depreciate goodness as if it were a thing of little 
 worth, and even come to look with some suspicion on 
 those who are only good — only moral, I think we call 
 it — and do not hold our own views of speculative truth. 
 Meanwhile religious teachers '' tell the wicked they are 
 righteous," and earn the curse of the nation, because 
 they thereby enable men to be hard and cruel and 
 unjust and selfish and proud and contemptuous, and 
 
7.] GOODNESS. i6i 
 
 yet to esteem themselves as justified by faith. Others 
 "justify the wicked," accepting a verbal profession in 
 place of a virtuous practice ; and that, as we have seen, 
 is abominable to the Lord. 
 
 Justification by faith loses all its meaning and all its 
 value unless it is fully admitted that to be just is the 
 great end and aim of religion. Salvation becomes a 
 delusion unless it is perceived that it means righteous- 
 ness. Heaven, and the saints* everlasting rest, become 
 worthless and misleading ideas unless we recognise 
 that it is the abode of goodness, and that saints are 
 not, as we sometimes seem to imply, bad people 
 regarded as holy by a legal fiction, but people who are 
 made good and are actually holy. 
 
 Strong as the language of our book is upon the 
 subject, it is not possible to bring out in mere proverbial 
 sayings the eternal necessity of this great truth. 
 Goodness and blessedness are actually identical, the 
 reverse and the obverse sides of the same coin. If a 
 man is made good he is made blessed ; but if he is 
 made blessed to all appearance, and not good, the 
 blessedness proves to be an illusion. It could not 
 possibly avail to be justified by faith, unless we were 
 made just by faith ; a sore body is not healed by cover- 
 ing it up, a dead man is not quickened by a smiling 
 mask. There have been many people who counted 
 themselves the elect, and made no question that they 
 were saved, though they remained all the time inwardly 
 wicked ; they were miserable, sour, discontented, cen- 
 sorious, a burden to themselves, an eyesore to others ; 
 they were persuaded that they would be happy in 
 heaven, and they supposed that their constant wretched- 
 ness was due to their being pilgrims in a strange land ; 
 
 I I 
 
1 62 THE BOOK OF Pi WERBS. 
 
 but the fact was they would be i -' re wretched still in 
 heaven, for nowhere is evil such a -urse as in a place 
 where good prevails ; their misery arose from their own 
 wicked hearts, ru.d in the next world, their hearts still 
 being wicked, their misery must continue and increase. 
 May God grant us a clear vision in this matter, that 
 we may see the due relation of things ! Goodness is 
 the principal thing — for it faith itself and all religion 
 exists. God is goodness — man is evil ; what God 
 means by saving us is to make us good like Himself. 
 That we must be saved by faith means that we must 
 be made good by faith, not that we must take faith in 
 place of goodness. That righteousness is imputed to 
 us by the goodness of God means that the goodness of 
 Christ is reckoned as ours for the purpose of making 
 us good, not in order to spare us the necessity of being 
 good. And in this way, and this only, we must 
 estimate one another. What a man believes in his 
 heart we can never fully know ; but whether he is 
 good or not is a matter plain as the day. It is easy 
 to bandy words of reproach, to call men unbelievers, 
 sceptics, atheists ; but there is only one wise way of 
 speaking and thinking. If we see goodness, let us 
 thank God, for there, be sure, His Spirit is;^ if we 
 see the lovely graces which shine in our Lord Jesus 
 Christ gleaming, however fitfully, in our fellow-men, let 
 us recognise Christ there. And where we see wicked- 
 ness, let no consideration of outward Christian profession 
 or orthodoxy of behef restrain us from fully recognising 
 that it is evil, or from courageously contending against it. 
 
 * " If ye know that He is righteous," says St. John, "ye know that 
 every one also that doeth righteousness is begotten of Him/ (i 
 John ii. 29). 
 
XII. 
 
 THE TONGUE. 
 
 "A man shall be satisfied with good by the fruit of his mouth: 
 and the doings of a man's hands shall be rendered unto him." — 
 Prov. xii. 14. 
 
 " In the transgression of the lips is a snare to an evil man : but the 
 rigateous shall come out of trouble." — Prov. xii. 13. 
 
 " A fool's vexation is PRESENTLY KNOWN : but a prudent man con- 
 ccaleth shame." — Prov. xii. 16. 
 
 " He that uttereth truth showeth forth righteousness, but a false 
 witnes.: deceit." — Prov. xii. 17. 
 
 " The LIP of truth shall be established for ever : but a lying tongue 
 is but for a moment." — Prov. xii. 19. 
 
 '• Lying lips are an abomination unto the Lord: but they that deal 
 truly are His delight." — Prov. xii. 22. 
 
 " There is that speaketh rashly like the piercings of a sword : but 
 the TONGUE of the wise is health." — Prov. xii. 18. 
 
 "A prudent man concealeth knowledge: but the heart of fools 
 proclaimeth foolishness."' — Prov. xii. 23. 
 
 " The WORDS of the wicked are a lying in wait for blood : but the 
 jiouTH of the upright shall deliver them." — Prov. xii. 6. 
 
 "Heaviness in the heart of a man maketh it stoop; but a good 
 WORD maketh it glad." — Prov. xii. 25. 
 
 THERE is nothing which seems more insubstantial 
 than speech, a mere vibration in the atmosphere 
 which touches the nerves of hearing and then dies 
 away. There is no organ which seems smaller and 
 less considerable than the tongue ; a little member 
 which is not even seen, and, physically speaking, soft 
 
1 64 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 and weak. But the word which issues out ot the lips 
 is the greatest power in human hfe. Th^^ "soft tongue 
 breaketh the bone."^ Words will change the ciiiTJ^ts 
 of life : look for instance at a great orator addressing his 
 audience ; how miraculous must it seem to a deaf man 
 watching the speaker that the quiet opening of a mouth 
 should be able to produce such powerful effects upon 
 the faces, the movements, the conduct of the listeners ! 
 
 We are coming to consider the importance of this 
 diminutive organ, the ill uses and the good uses to which 
 it may be turned, and the consequent necessity of fitly 
 directly and restraining it. 
 
 On the use of the tongue depend the issues of a 
 man's own life. It may be regarded as a tree which 
 bears fruits of different kinds, and such fruits as his 
 tongue bears a man must eat. If his words have been 
 good, then he shall be satisfied with good by the; fruit 
 of his mouth. ^ " A man's belly shall be filled with the 
 fruit of his mouth, with the increase of his lips shall he 
 be satisfied."^ The fruits which grow on this tongue- 
 tree are death and life — the tongue produces them — and 
 he that loves the tree shall according to his love eat the 
 one fruit or the other ; if he loves death-bearing speech 
 he shall eat death ; if he loves life-bearing speech he 
 shall eat life.^ So deadly may be the fruit of the tongue 
 that the mouth of the fool is regarded as a present 
 destruction.'^ So wholesome may be the fruit of the 
 tongue that the tongue of the wise may be actually 
 denominated health.*^ 
 
 In the case of the fool it is always very obvious how 
 
 ' Prov. XXV. 15. ^ Prov. xviii. 20. * Prov. x. 14. 
 
 * Prov. xiii. 2. * Prov. xviii. 21. ^ Prov. xii. l\ 
 
xii. 6-25.1 THE TONGUE. 165 
 
 powerfully tlie tongue affects the condition of the 
 speaker. His lips are always coming into strife, and his 
 mouth is always calling for stripes. It is his destruc- 
 tion, and his lips are the snare of his soul.^ In the 
 transgression of the lips always lies the snare for the 
 evil man : ultimately all men are in effect condemned 
 out of their own mouths.^ The tongue proves to be a 
 rod for the back of the proud and foolish owner of it, 
 while the good man's tongue is a constant life-pre- 
 server.'^ As an old proverb says, a fool's tongue is 
 always long enough to cut his own throat. On the 
 other hand, where the tongue is wisely used it always 
 brings back joy to the speaker in the end.^ Thus who- 
 ever keeps his mouth and his tongue keeps his soul 
 from troubles,'' but the man who does not take the pains 
 to hear, but gives his testimony falsely, shall perish.*'' 
 While the use of the tongue thus recoils on the speaker 
 for good or for evil, it has a wide influence also on 
 others. " He that hath a perverse tongue falleth into 
 mischief," " but when speech is good, and such as it 
 ought to be, ''the words of a man's mouth are like deep 
 waters, a gushing brook, a well of wisdom."* 
 
 Thus it is of vast and obvious importance how we 
 use our tongue. If our speech is gracious we shall 
 win the friendship of the king,*^ and it is a pleasant 
 thing if we " keep the words of the wise within us and 
 if they be established together upon our lips." ^^ It is 
 better for us to be poor than perverse or untruthful in 
 our speech. ^^ Our teacher, especially our Divine Lord, 
 
 ' Prov. xviii. 6, 7. ^ Prov. xxi. 23. ^ Prov. xxii. II. 
 
 "^ Prov. xii. 13, ** Prov. xxi. 28. '" Prov. xxii. 18. 
 
 ^ Prov. xiv. 3. ^ Prov. xvii. 20. " Prov. xix. I, 22. 
 
 * Prov. XV. 23. • Prov. xviii. 4. 
 
1 66 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 will rejoice inwardly and deeply " when our lips speak 
 right things."^ 
 
 We are now cautioned against some of the evil 
 purposes to which the tongue may be turned, and as 
 all the heads of evil are passed in review we realize 
 why St. James spoke of the tongue as ^' the world of 
 iniquity " (iii. 6) ; and how profound was our Lord's 
 teaching that out of the mouth proceed the things which 
 defile a man (Matt. xv. i8). 
 
 First of all, the tongue is a fruitful source of Onar^ 
 relling and discord. A fool cannot hide his vexation, 
 but must immediately blurt it out with the tongue.- 
 When he is angry he must utter it all at once,^ though 
 a wise man would keep it back and still it, so conceal- 
 ing shame. No one is more certain to come to grief 
 than ''he who provokes with words." ^ These irritating 
 taunts and threats are Hke coals to hot embers, and 
 wood to fire ; '' in their absence the contention would 
 quickly die out. It is therefore the wise counsel of 
 Agur to one who has done foolishly in exalting himself, 
 or has even entertained for a moment the arrogant or 
 
 ' Prov. xxiii. 1 6. - Prov. xii. 1 6. ^ Prov. xxix. 1 1. 
 
 ^ Prov. xix. 7. All the Proverbs in this selection are in the form 
 of a distich. This affords a fair presumption that this verse with its 
 three clauses is mutilated ; and the presumption is confirmed by the 
 fact that the third clause adds nothing of value, even if it be intelligible 
 at all, to the sense. There is good reason, therefore, for believing that 
 this third clause is the half of a distich which has not been preserved 
 in its integrity; all the more because the LXX. have a complete proverb 
 which runs thus : 6 ttoXXo, KaKoiroioJu TeXeacovpyeL Kadav, os 5e epedi^ei 
 \6yovs ov audrjcreTai. "He that does much evil is a craftsman of iniquit}^, 
 and he that uses provoking words shall not escape." Perhaps in 
 the Hebrew text which was before the Greek translators Fl'^SO 
 appeared instead of Pl^t^P) ai^d H^n N? instead of n^H'N?. 
 
 ^ Fro\'. xxvi. 21. 
 
6-25] THE TONGUE. 167 
 
 quarrelsome thought, "Hand on thy mouth!" for speech 
 under such circumstances produces strife as surely as 
 churning produces butter from milk, or a blow on the 
 nose blood. ^ Rash, inconsiderate, angry words are like 
 the piercings of a sword.- If only our wrathful spirit 
 made us immediately dumb, anger would never go far, 
 it would die out as a conflagration dies when there is 
 no wind to fan the flames. 
 
 But again, the tongue is the instrument of Lying; 
 one of its worst disservices to man is that when it is 
 well balanced, so that it easily wags, it often betrays 
 him into untruths which his heart never contemplated 
 nop even approved. It is the tongue which by false 
 witness so often condemns the innocent.^ A worthless 
 witness mocketh at judgment ; and the mouth of the 
 wicked swalloweth iniquity.^ And though such a wit- 
 ness shall not in the long run go unpunished, nor 
 shall the liar escape,^ yet, as experience shows, he may 
 have brought ruin or calamity on others before ven- 
 geance falls upon him. The false witness shall perish," 
 but often not before he has like a mace or a hammer 
 bruised and like a sword or a sharp arrow pierced his 
 unfortunate neighbour.'' It is the tongue which glozes 
 over the purposes of hate, and lulls the victim into a 
 false security ; the fervent lips and the wicked heart are 
 like a silver lining spread over an earthen vessel to 
 make it look like silver ; the hatred is cunningly con- 
 cealed, the seven abominations in the heart are hidden ; 
 the pit which is being dug and the stone which is to 
 overwhelm the innocent are kept secret by the facile talk 
 
 Prov. XXX. 32, 33. ' Prov. xix. 28. " Prov. xxi. 28. 
 
 Prov. xii. 18. ^ Prov. xix. 5, rep. vcr. 9. " Prov. xxv. iS. 
 
 Prov. xii. 17. 
 
l68 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 and flatteries of the tongue; the more the tongue lies in 
 its guileful machinations the more the heart hates the 
 victims of its spite.^ A righteous man hates lying, but 
 the wicked, by his lies, brings disgrace and shame.^ The 
 lie often appears to prosper for a moment,'' but happily 
 it is an abomination to the Lord,"' and in His righteous 
 ordering of events he makes the falsehood which was 
 as bread, and sweet to the lips, into gravel which breaks 
 the teeth in the mouth. '^ The curse which is causeless 
 is frustrated, and so also is the empty lie ; it wanders 
 without rest, without limit, like a sparrow or a 
 swallow\*^ 
 
 Closely allied to lying is Flattery; and to this vile 
 use the tongue is often put. Flattery is always a 
 mistake. It does not attain its end in winning the 
 favour of the flattered ; for in the long run *' he that 
 rebuketh a man shall find more favour than he that 
 flattereth with the tongue." " If it is believed, as often 
 unfortunately it is, it proves to be a net spread in the 
 path, which may trip up, and may even capture and 
 destroy, the unwary walker.^ 
 
 Another evil use of the tongue is for Whispering and 
 tale-bearing. " He that goeth about as a tale-bearer 
 revealeth secrets " — he is not to be trusted, it is better 
 to have nothing to do with him. Disclosing the secret 
 of another is a sure way of incurring reproach and 
 lasting infamy. Such a habit is a fruitful source of 
 rage and indignation, it brings black wrath to the 
 
 * Prov. xxvi. 23-28. ^ Prov. xx. 17. 
 ■^ Prov. xiii. 5. «* Prov. xxvi. 2. 
 
 ^ Prov. xii. 19. ' Prov. xxviii. 23. 
 
 * Prov. xii. 23j * Prov. xxix. 5, 
 
6-25-] THE TONGUE. 169 
 
 countenance of him whose secret has been published, 
 just as a north wind spreads the rain clouds over the 
 sky.^ The temptation to tattling is great ; the business 
 of a gossip brings an immediate reward ; for the 
 corrupt heart of man delights in scandal as an epicure 
 in tit-bits : " The words of a whisperer are as dainty 
 morsels which go down into the chamber of the belly." "^ 
 But what mischief they do ! They separate bosom 
 friends, sowing suspicion and distrust.'' Where there 
 is already a little misunderstanding, the whisperer 
 supplies wood to the fire and keeps it burning ; apart 
 from him it would soon die out.^ But if he thinks 
 there is any prospect of a reconciliation he will be 
 constantly harping on the matter ; one who seeks love 
 would try to hide the transgression, but the scandal- 
 monger is a foe to love and the unfailing author of 
 enmity.'' 
 
 But there is Mischief, more deliberate and more 
 malignant still, which the tongue is employed to plot, 
 to plan and to execute. '' With his mouth the godless 
 man destroyeth his neighbour.'"^ ''The words of the 
 wicked are a lying in wait for blood."' "The mouth 
 of the wicked poureth out evil things," ^ blasphemies, 
 obscenities, curses, imprecations. "A froward man 
 scattereth abroad strife." '' He deceives, and in bitter 
 raillery declares that he was only jesting; he is like 
 
 ' Prov. xi. 13 and xx. 19; xx\^ 2, 23. Cf. "Whoso discovcreth 
 secrets loseth his credit and shall never find friend to his mind " 
 (Eccles. xxvii. 16). 
 
 - Prov. xviii. 8, rep. xxvi. 22. * Prov. xi. 9. 
 
 ' Prov. xvi. 28. ' Prov. xii. 6. 
 
 * Prov. xxvi. 20. • Prov. xv. 28. 
 
 * Prov. xvji. 9. * Prov. xvi. 28, 
 
[70 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS, 
 
 a madman casting firebrands, arrows, and death.^ We 
 know what it is to hear a man pouring out foul, abusive, 
 and impious language, until the very atmosphere seems 
 enflamed with firebrands, and arrow^s fly hither and 
 thither through the horrified air. We know, too, what 
 it is to hear the smooth and well-turned speech of the 
 hypocrite and the impostor, which seems to oppress 
 the heart with a sense of decomposition ; righteousness, 
 truth, and joy seem to wither away, and in the choking 
 suffocation of deceit and fraud life itself seems as if 
 it must expire. 
 
 It is a relief to turn from those worst uses of the 
 tongue to the more pardonable vices of Rashness and 
 Inopportuneness of speech. Yet these too are evil 
 enough in their way. To pass a judgment before we are 
 in possession of the facts, and before we have taken the 
 pains to carefully investigate and consider them, is a 
 sign of folly and a source of shame.^ So impressed is 
 our teacher with the danger of ill-considered speech that 
 he says, ''Seest thou a man that is hasty in his words ? 
 there is more hope of a fool than of him." ^ And even 
 where the utterance of the tongue is in itself good it 
 may be rendered evil by its untimeliness ; religious 
 talk itself may be so introduced as to hinder the cause 
 of religion ; pearls may be cast before swine : " Speak 
 not in the hearing of a fool, for he will despise the 
 wisdom of thy words. "^ There must be some prepara- 
 tion of spirit before we can wisely introduce Divine and 
 heavenly things, and circumstances must not be chosen 
 which will tend to make the Divine things seem mean 
 
 ' Prov. xxvi. iS, 19. ^ Prov. xxix. 20. 
 
 - Prov. xv'iii. 13. ^ Prov. xxiii. 9. 
 
xii. 6-25.1 T'/ZTT TONGUE. 171 
 
 and contemptible. It may be good to rebuke an evil- 
 doer, or to admonish a friend ; but if the opportunity 
 is not fitting, we may make the evildoer more evil,— 
 we may alienate our friend without improving him. 
 
 Considering then what mischief may be done with 
 the tongue, it is not to be wondered at that we are 
 cautioned against excessive speech, " In the multitude 
 of words there wanteth not transgression, but he that 
 refraineth his lips doeth wisely."^ ^' He that guardeth 
 his mouth keepeth his life ; who opens wide his lips 
 gets destruction, and a fool spreadeth out folly."- *'In 
 all labour is profit, the talk of the lips tends only to 
 poverty." ^ " Wisdom rests in the heart of the under- 
 standing, but even in the inward part of fools all is 
 blabbed." ^ " In the fool are no lips of knowledge " 
 ]^ecause he is always talking.'"' " The tongue of the 
 wise uttcreth knowledge aright, but the mouth of fools 
 poureth out folly." ^ "A fool hath no delight in under- 
 standing, but only that his heart may reveal itself." ^ 
 One who is always pouring out talk is sure to be 
 pouring out folly. The wise man, feeling that all his 
 words must be tested and weighed, is not able to talk 
 very much. When your money is all in copper, you 
 may afford to throw it about, but when it is all in gold 
 
 ' Prov. X. 19. ' Prov. xi\% 23. 
 
 - Prov. xiii. 3, 16. * Prov. xiv. 33. 
 
 * Prov. xiv. 7. There is a quaint and pertinent passage in Lyly's 
 Euphues: — "We may see the cunning and curious work of Nature, 
 which hath barred and hedged nothing in so strongly as the tongue, 
 with two rowes of teeth, and therewith two lips, besides she hath placed 
 it farre from the heart, that it should not utter that which the heart had 
 conceived ; this also should cause us to be silent, seeinge those that 
 use much talkc, though they speake truly, are never beleeved." 
 
 " Prov. XV. 2. " Prov. xviii. 2. 
 
172 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 you have to be cautious. A Christian feels that for 
 every idle word he utters he will have to give account, 
 and as none of his words are to be idle they must 
 be comparitively few ; the word that kindles wrath, the 
 lie, the whisper, the slander, can therefore find no place 
 on his lips. 
 
 This brings us to the Good and bemitiful uses of the 
 tongue y those uses which justify us in calling the 
 tongue of the wise Health.-^ First of all the tongue has 
 the gracious power of soothing and restraining anger. 
 It is the readiest instrument of peace-making. Gentle- 
 ness of speech allays great offences,- and by preventing 
 quarrels, disarming wrath, and healing the wounds of 
 the spirit, it maintains its claim to be a tree of life.^ 
 If in the tumult of passion, when fiery charges are 
 made and grievous provocations are uttered, the tongue 
 can be held in firm restraint, and made to give a soft 
 answer, the storm will subside, the angry assailant 
 will retire abashed,^ and the flaming arrows will be 
 quenched in the buckler of meekness which opposes 
 them. Nor is the tongue only defensive in such cases. 
 The pleasant words, spoken out of a kindly and gentle 
 nature, have a purifying effect;^ they cleanse away the 
 defilements out of which the evil passions sprang ; they 
 purge the diseased humours which produce the irrita- 
 tions of life ; they supply a sweet food to the poor 
 hearts of men, who are often contentious because 
 they are hungry for sympathy and love. Pleasant 
 
 ' Prov. xii. 1 8. - Eccl. x. 4. 
 
 •'' Prov. XV. 4. NS"!P is best rendered here and in Eccl. x. 4 by 
 " gentleness." It is just that qualit}' of humilit}' and submission and 
 tranquillity which our Lord blessed as meekness. 
 
 * Prov. XV. I. * Prov. xv. 26. 
 
xii.6-25.] THE TONGUE. 173 
 
 words are as a honeycomb, sweet to the soul, health to 
 the bones. ^ They must be true words, or they will 
 not in the end be pleasant, for, as we have seen, the 
 sweet bread of falsehood turns to gravel in the mouth. 
 But what a different world this would become if we all 
 spoke as many pleasant words as we honestly could, 
 and were not so painfully afraid of showing what 
 tenderness and pity and healing actually exist in our 
 hearts ! For another beautiful use of the tongue is to 
 comfort the mourners, of whom there are always so 
 many in the world. " Heaviness in the heart of a 
 man maketh it stoop." There are these stooping, 
 bowed-down hearts everywhere around us. We wish 
 that we could remove the cause of sorrow, that we 
 could effectually change the conditions which seem 
 unfavourable to joy ; but being unable to do this, we 
 often stand aloof and remain silent, because we shrink 
 from giving words without deeds, pity without relief. 
 We forget that when the heart is heavy it is just " a 
 good word that maketh it glad."" Yes, a word of 
 genuine sympathy, a word from the heart, — and in 
 trouble no other word can be called good, — will often 
 do more to revive the drooping spirit than the grosser 
 gifts of material wealth. A coin kindly given, a 
 present dictated by a heart-felt love, may come as a 
 spiritual blessing ; on the other hand, money given 
 without love is worthless, and seldom earns so much 
 as gratitude, while a word in season, how good it is ! "^ 
 It is better than silver and gold ; the discouraged and 
 despondent heart seems to be touched with the delicate 
 finger of hope, and to rise from the ashes and the dust 
 
 ' Prov. xvi. 24. * Prov. xii. 25. * Prov. xv. 23. 
 
174 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 with a new purpose and a new life. It must, of course, 
 be in season. " As vinegar upon nitre so is he that 
 sings songs to a sad heart. "^ But the seasonable 
 word, spoken just at the right moment and just in the 
 right tone, brief and simple, but comprehending and 
 penetrating, will often make the sad heart sing a song 
 for itself. 
 
 Great stress is to be laid on this seasonableness of 
 speech, whether the speech be for comfort or reproof. 
 A word fitly spoken, or to preserve the image implied 
 in the original, a word that runs on its wheels in the 
 just and inevitable groove, is compared to a beautiful 
 ornament consisting of golden apples set in an ap- 
 propriate framework of silver filigree.^ In such an 
 ornament the golden apples torn from their suitable 
 foil would lose half their beauty, and the silver 
 setting without the apples would only suggest a void 
 and a missing. It is in the combination that the 
 artistic value is to be found. In the same way, the 
 wisest utterance spoken foolishly^ jars upon the 
 hearers, and misses the mark, while a very simple 
 saying, a platitude in itself, may by its setting become 
 lovely and worthy. The best sermon in a social 
 gathering will seem out of place, but how often can the 
 Christian man by some almost unobserved remark 
 correct unseasonable levity, rebuke unhallowed con- 
 versation, and lead the minds of the company to nobler 
 thoughts. The timely word is better than the best 
 sermon in such a case. 
 
 * Prov. XXV. 20. - Prov. xxv. ii. 
 
 ^ Cf. Eccles. XX. 20 : "A wise sentence shall be rejected when 
 it Cometh out of a fools mouth, for he will not speak it in due 
 season,'' 
 
xii.6-25.] THE TONGUE. 175 
 
 The use of the tongue in Reproof is frequently re- 
 ferred to in these proverbs. " A wise reprover upon 
 an obedient ear" is compared to "an earring of gold, 
 an ornament of fine gold."^ And rebuke is, as we 
 have seen, preferred before flattery.- But how wise 
 we must be before our tongue can fitly discharge this 
 function ! How humble must the heart be before it 
 can instruct the tongue to speak at once with firmness 
 and tenderness, without a touch of the Pharisee in its 
 tone, to the erring brother or the offending stranger ! 
 A rebuke which springs not from love but from vanity, 
 not from self-forgetfulness but from self-righteousness, 
 will not be like an earring of gold, but rather like an 
 ornament of miserable tinsel chafing the ear, the cause 
 of gangrene, a disfigurement as well as an injury. But 
 if we live in close communion with Christ, and daily 
 receive His stern but tender rebukes into our own 
 souls, it is possible that we may be employed by Him 
 to deliver timely rebukes to our fellow-men. 
 
 There are two other noble uses of the tongue to which 
 reference is constantly made in our book; Xh^Iiistnidion 
 of the ignorant, and the Championship of the distressed. 
 With regard to the first, we are told that '' the lips of 
 the wise disperse knowledge," while of course the heart 
 of the foolish not being right cannot possibly impart 
 rightncss to others.^ It is only the wise in heart that 
 can claim the title of prudent, but where that wisdom 
 is '' the sweetness of the lips increaseth learning." ' 
 " The heart of the wise instructeth his mouth and 
 addeth learning to his lips." ^ The lips of knowledge 
 
 Prov. XXV. 12. ^ Prov. xv. 7. * Prov. xvi 23. 
 
 Prov. xxviii. 23. ■• Prov, xvi. 21. 
 
176 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 are compared to a precious vessel which is more valu- 
 able than gold or rubies. ^ To teach well requires 
 earnest preparation, '' the heart of the righteous studieth 
 to answer." ^ But when the right answer to the pupil 
 is discovered and given it is beautifully compared to 
 a kiss on the lips.^ 
 
 But never is the tongue more divinely employed than 
 in using its knowledge or its pleadings to deliver those 
 who are in danger or distress. '' Through knowledge 
 the righteous may often be dehvered."'^ The mouth of 
 the upright will deliver those against whom the wicked 
 are plotting.^ It is a great prerogative of wise lips 
 that they are able to preserve not themselves only but 
 others.^ The true and faithful witness delivers souls." 
 It is this which gives to power its one great attraction 
 for the good man. The ruler, the judge, the person 
 of social consideration or of large means is in the 
 enviable position of being able to '' open his mouth for 
 the dumb, in the cause of all such as are left desolate, 
 to judge rightly and minister judgment to the poor and 
 needy." « 
 
 The Press — that great fourth estate — which represents 
 for us the more extended use of the tongue in modern 
 times, illustrates in the most vivid way the service 
 which can be rendered where speech is fit, and also the 
 injury that can be done where it is rash, imprudent, 
 dishonest, interested, or unjust. 
 
 After thus reviewing some of the good uses of the 
 tongue, and observing how they depend on the state 
 
 * Prov. XX. 15, * Prov. xii. 6. 
 
 2 Prov. XV. 28. * Prov. xiv. 3. 
 
 3 Prov. xxiv. 26. ' Prov. xiv. 5, 25. 
 
 * Prov. xi. 9. ' Prov. xxxi. 8, 9. 
 
xii.6-2S.] THE TONGUE. 177 
 
 of the heart/ we cannot help again laying stress on the 
 need of a wise self-control in all that we say. He that 
 refraineth his lips doeth wisely. A man of understand- 
 ing holdeth his peace. ^ "He that spareth his words 
 hath knowledge." ^ " Even a fool when he holdeth his 
 peace is counted wise, when he shutteth his lips he 
 is prudent"* If only the uninstructed and foolish 
 person has sense enough to perceive that wisdom 
 is too high for him he will not open his mouth in the 
 gate,^ and so in listening he may learn. "Of thine 
 unspoken word thou art master," says an Indian 
 proverb, "but thy spoken word is master of thee." 
 We are to be swift to hear, but slow to speak : we are 
 to ponder all that we hear, for it is only the simple that 
 believes every word, the prudent man looks well to his 
 going.^ As St. James says, summing up all the teach- 
 ing that we have reviewed, " If any man thinketh 
 himself to be religious, while he bridleth not his tongue, 
 but deceiveth his heart, this man's religion is vain." ^ 
 
 And now there is only one other point to be noticed, 
 but it is one of vast importance. As we realize the 
 immense power of the tongue and the great issues 
 which depend on its right or wrong employment ; as 
 
 ' Note the intimate connection between conduct and speech in 
 such a proverb as xvii. 4. When we do evil we are always ready 
 to listen to evil talk, when we talk deceitfully we are preparing to go 
 on to worse deeds of evil, to listen to tongues of destruction. Note, 
 too, how in xii. 5 the thoughts and the counsels of the heart come 
 before the words and the mouth in v. 6. 
 
 * Prov. xi. 12. ^ Prov. xvii. 27, 
 
 * Prov. xvii. 28. Cf. the old Norse proverb : — 
 
 " An unwise man when he comes among the people 
 Had best be silent : no one knows 
 That he nothing knows unless he talks too much." 
 ' Prov. xxiv. 7. « Prov. xiv, 15. " James i. 26. 
 
 12 
 
178 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 we sum up all the evil which its tiny unobserved move- 
 ments can accomplish, and all the rich blessings which 
 it is, under right supervision, capable of producing ; and 
 as from personal experience we recognise how difficult 
 it is to bridle the unruly member, how difficult it is to 
 check the double fountain so that it shall send forth 
 sweet waters only, and no bitter, we may be awed into 
 an almost absolute silence, and be inclined to put away 
 the talent of speech which our Lord has given to us, 
 not daring to use it lest in using we should abuse it. 
 But here is the answer to our misgiving : the plans and 
 preparations of our hearts belong to us, but the answer 
 of the tongue is from the Lord.^ This most uncontroll- 
 able organ of the body can be put under our Lord's 
 control. He is able to give us '' a mouth and wisdom," 
 and to make our words not our own but the utterance 
 of His Holy Spirit. There may be ^' an ocean round 
 our words which overflows and drowns them," the 
 encircling influences of God, turning even our faultiest 
 speech to good account, neutralising all our falter- 
 ings and blunderings, and silencing our follies and 
 perversities. 
 
 Shall we not put our lips under our Lord's control, 
 that the answer of our tongue may be from Him ? While 
 we seek daily to subject our hearts to Him, shall we 
 not in a pecuHar and a direct manner subject our 
 tongues, to Him ? for while a subjected heart may keep 
 the mouth from speaking evil, if the tongue is to speak 
 well and to be employed for all its noble uses it must 
 be immediately moved by God, our lips must be touched 
 with a coal from the altar, our speech must be chastened 
 and purified, inspired and impelled, by Him. 
 
 Prov. xvi. I. 
 
XIII. 
 
 PRIDE AND HUMILITY. 
 
 " A wise son hcarcth his father's instruction, but a scorncr hcarcth 
 not rebuke." — Prov. xiii. I. 
 
 "Poverty and shame shall be to him that refuscth correction, but 
 he that regardeth reproof shall be honoured." — Prov. xiii. i8. 
 
 " By pride cometh only contention, but with the well advised is 
 wisdom." — Prov. xiii. lo, 
 
 "Whoso despiseth the word bringeth destruction on himself; but 
 he that feareth the commandment shall be rewarded." — Prov. xiii. 13. 
 
 This last proverb appears in another form, as, "He that givcth 
 heed unto the word shall find good, and whoso trusteth in the Lord 
 happy is he." — Prov. xvi. 20. 
 
 BY a proud man we mean one who esteems himself 
 better than others ; by a humble man we mean 
 one who counts others better than himself. The proud 
 man is so convinced of his intrinsic superiority that 
 if appearances are against him, if ethers obtain more 
 recognition, honour, wealth than he, the fault seems to 
 him to lie in the evil constitution of the world, which 
 cannot recognize merit ; for his own intrinsic superiority 
 is the axiom which is always to be taken for granted ; 
 " his neighbours therefore find no favour in his eyes, 
 and he even desires their calamity and ruin," in order, 
 as he would put it, that every one may be set in his 
 due place.^ Meanwhile he is always boasting of 
 
 ' Prov, xxi. 10. 
 
i8o THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 possessions, dignities, and gifts which do not yet, but 
 some day will, appear to the public eye. He is like 
 clouds which overcast the sky, and wind which frets the 
 earth, without bringing any wholesome rain.^ If, on the 
 other hand, appearances are with him, if wealth, dignity, 
 and honour fall to his share, he is affably convinced of 
 his own supreme excellence ; the proof of his own con- 
 viction is written large in his broad acres, his swelling 
 dividends, and his ever-increasing troops of flatterers 
 and friends ; and he moves smoothly on to — what ? — 
 strange to say, little as he thinks it, to destruction, for 
 *' Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit 
 before a fall." ^ If he only knew he would say, '* Better 
 is it to be of a lowly spirit with the meek than to 
 divide the spoil with the proud ; " ^ for ^' before de- 
 struction the heart of man is haughty, and before honour 
 goeth humility." ^ The event shows, if not in this 
 world, yet the more surely in the next, that it is well 
 to "let another man praise thee, and not thine own 
 mouth ; a stranger, and not thine own lips." * 
 
 When our eyes are open to see things as they are, 
 we are no longer in the least impressed by the " proud 
 and haughty man whose name is scorner working in 
 the arrogance of pride." ^ We may not live to see it, 
 but we are quite persuaded that *' a man's pride shall 
 bring him low, but he that is of a lowly spirit shall 
 obtain honour." ^ " Seest thou a man wise in his own 
 conceit ? There is more hope of a fool than of him." ^ 
 Now what are the evil effects of pride, and what are 
 the blessings that follow on humility ? 
 
 • Prov. XXV. 14. * Prov. xxv-ii. 2. ^ Prov. xxix. 23. 
 
 ^ Prov. xvi. 18, 19. * Prov. xxi. 24. ' Prov. xxvi. 12. 
 
 ^ Prov. xviii. 12. 
 
xiii. i-iS; xvi.20.] PRIDE AND HUMILITY. i8i 
 
 First of all f pride cuts a man off from all the salutary 
 effects of reproof, rebuke, criticism, and counsel, without 
 which it is not possible for any of us to become wise. 
 "A wise son" is the result of *'a father's correction," 
 says the text, and such a son makes his father glad ; ^ 
 but the pride in a child's heart will often prevent him 
 from receiving even the correction of a father, and will 
 lead him to despise his mother. And if the parents 
 have not firmness and wisdom enough to overcome this 
 childish resistance, it will grow with years, and prove 
 more and more disastrous. " He is in the way of life 
 that heedeth correction, but he that forsaketh reproof 
 erreth." ^ If he had loved reproof he would have 
 acquired knowledge, but hating it he becomes brutish.^ 
 It is evident then that this pride is folly. He is a fool 
 that despises his father's correction, but he that re- 
 gardeth reproof getteth prudence.* He that refuseth 
 correction despiseth his own soul, but he that hearkeneth 
 to reproof getteth understanding.'^ 
 
 When we are grown up, and no longer under the 
 tutelage of parents who love us, pride is still more 
 likely to harden our hearts against criticism and 
 counsel. The word of warning falls on the proud ear 
 in vain, just because it is the word of warning, and 
 often does the wilful heart mourn as it suffers the 
 penalty of its stubbornness.® A man who refuses 
 
 ' Prov. xiii. I ; xv. 20. * Prov. xv. 8. 
 
 ^ Prov. X. 17. ^ Prov. xv. 32. 
 
 ' Prov. xii. I. 
 
 • Prov. xiii. 13 should be translated : " Whoso despiseth the word 
 {sc. of warning and rebuke) shall be under a pledge to it {i.e. he has 
 contracted an obligation to the word by hearing it, and in case of 
 disobedience will have to redeem this implicit pledge by suffering and 
 remorse), but he that feareth the commandment shall be rewarded." 
 
i82 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 correction is a synonym for poverty and shame.^ These 
 words which we in our pride despise might be an 
 incalculable benefit to us. Even the most witless 
 criticism may be useful to a humble mind, even the 
 most unjust attacks may lead us to wholesome self- 
 searching, and to a more careful removal of possible 
 offences. While if the criticism is fair, and prompted 
 by a kind heart, or if the rebuke is administered by one 
 whose wisdom and justice we respect, it is likely to do 
 us far more good than praise and approval. "A rebuke 
 entereth deeper into one that hath understanding than 
 a hundred stripes into a fool " ^ '' Better is open re- 
 buke than love that is hid." ^ If we were wise we 
 should value this plain and honest speaking much more 
 than the insipid flattery which is often dictated by 
 interested motives."* In fact, praise is a very question- 
 able benefit ; it is of no use at all unless we carefully 
 test it, and try it, and accept it with the greatest caution, 
 for only a small part of it is pure metal, most of it is 
 mere dross ; ■' and praise that is not deserved is the 
 most dangerous and deleterious of dehghts. But re- 
 buke and criticism cannot do us much harm. Many 
 great and noble men have been ruined by admiration 
 
 ' Prov. xiii. 17. ^ Prov. xxvii. 5. 
 
 ^ Prov. xvii. 10. ■* Prov, xxviii. 23. 
 
 ^ Prov. xxvii. 21 : "The fining pot is for silver and the furnace for 
 gold, and a man for the mouth of his praise." This somew^hat 
 obscure aphorism is most simply explained thus : — A man should 
 make his conscience a kind of furnace, in which he tries all the 
 laudatory things which are said of him, accepting only the refined 
 and pure metal which results from such a test, and rejecting the 
 dross. This is simpler than, with Delitzsch, to explain, " a man is 
 tested by the praise which is bestowed upon him as silver and gold 
 are tested in the fire." 
 
xiii. i-iS;xvi.20.] PRIDE AND HUMILITY. 183 
 
 and popularity, who might have thriven, growing greater 
 and nobler, in the fiercest and most relentless criticism. 
 Donatello, the great Florentine sculptor, went at one 
 time of his life to Padua, where he was received with 
 the utmost enthusiasm, and loaded with approbation 
 and honours. But soon he declared his intention of 
 returning to Florence, on the ground that the sharp 
 assaults and the cutting criticisms which always assailed 
 him in his native city were much more favourable to 
 his art than the atmosphere of admiration and eulogy. 
 In this way he thought that he would be stimulated 
 to greater efforts, and ultimately attain to a surer 
 reputation. In the same spirit the greatest of modern 
 art critics has told us how valuable to him were the 
 criticisms which his humble Italian servant made on 
 his drawings. Certainly, ''with those who allow them- 
 selves to be advised is wisdom." ^ *' He that trusteth 
 in his own heart," and cannot receive the advice of 
 others, "is a fool ; but whoso walketh wisely he shall 
 be delivered," sometimes perhaps by the humble sug- 
 gestions of very simple people." 
 
 Yes, '' with the lowly is wisdom : " ^ they " hearken 
 to counsel," ^ and in doing so they get the advantage of 
 many other wits, while the proud man is confined strictly 
 to his own, and however great his capacity may be, it 
 is hardly probable that he will sum up all human wisdom 
 in himself. The lowly gives heed to the word, no 
 matter who speaks it, and finds good ; '' he abides 
 among the wise, because he is always ready to learn ; 
 consequently, he becomes wise, and eventually he gets 
 
 ' Prov. xiii. 10. ^ Prov. xi. 2. * Prov. xvi. 20. 
 
 * Prov. xxviii. 26. ^ Prov. xii. 15^. 
 
1^4 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 the honour which he deserves.^ It is in this way that 
 people of lowly station and very moderate abilities 
 often come to the front. " A servant that deals wisely 
 has rule over a son that causes shame, and has part in 
 the inheritance among the brethren."^ To a crafty son 
 no good shall be, but to a servant who is wise his 
 actions shall prosper and his way be made straight.^ 
 The consciousness of not being clever, and a wise 
 diffidence in our own judgment, will often make us very 
 thankful to learn from others and save us from the 
 follies of wilfulness ; and thus very much to their own 
 astonishment the humble find that they have out- 
 distanced their more brilliant competitors in the race, 
 and, walking in their humility, unexpectedly light upon 
 recognition and admiration, honour and love. 
 
 This first point, then, becomes very clear in the light 
 of experience. One of the most injurious effects of 
 Pride is to cut off its miserable victim from all the 
 vast help and service w^hich rebuke and criticism can 
 render to the humble. One of the sweetest results of 
 a genuine humility is that it brings us to the feet of 
 all wise teachers ; it multiplies lessons for us in all the 
 objects which surround us ; it enables us to learn even 
 from those who seem to be too captious to teach, or too 
 malevolent to be even wise. The humble mind has all 
 the wisdom of the ages as its possession, and all the 
 folly of fools as an invaluable warning. 
 
 Secondly, by pride comes nothing but strife,* and 
 
 * Prov. XV. 31, 33. ^ Prov. x\di. 2. 
 
 This is an addition of the LXX. to xiii. 13, and may represent an 
 original Hebrew text. For the idea cp. Eccles. x. 25, " Unto the 
 servant that is wise shall they that are free do service." 
 
 * Prov. xiii. 10. 
 
xiii. i-i8; xvi.20.] PRIDE AND HUMILITY. 185 
 
 he loveth transgression that loveth strife ; he that 
 raiseth high his gate, />., builds a lofty house, seeketh 
 destruction.^ It is the pride of monarchs and nations 
 which produces war ; the sense of personal dignity which 
 is always sudden and quick in quarrel ; the feeling of 
 swollen self-importance which is afraid to make peace 
 lest it should suffer in the eyes of men. And in the 
 affairs of private life our pride, rather than our sense of 
 right, usually creates, fosters, and embitters divisions, 
 alienations, and quarrels. " I am perfectly innocent," 
 says Pride ; " I bear no resentment, but it would be 
 absurd for me to make the first advances ; when those 
 advances are made, I am willing to forgive and to 
 forget." " I think I am innocent," says HumiHty, " but 
 then I may have been very provoking, and I may have 
 given offence without knowing it ; in any case, I may 
 as well make an offer of apology ; if I fail, I fail." 
 
 Nor is this the only way in which strife grows out 
 of pride, for " by pride comes Clothing but strife." All 
 the foolish extravagances of social competition are to 
 be traced to the same source. One man "raises high 
 his gate," builds a fine house, and furnishes it in the 
 best way. He flatters himself that his " little place " 
 is tolerably comfortable, and he speaks with some con- 
 temptuous pity of all his neighbours' houses. Imme- 
 diately all his neighbours enviously strive to excel him, 
 and pride vies with pride, heartburnings are many and 
 bitter. Then there comes on the scene one who in 
 wealth and ostentation of wealth exceeds them all, and 
 the first man is now racked with envy, strains every 
 nerve to outdo the insolent intruder, suffers his debts 
 
 ' Prov. xvii. 19. 
 
1 86 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 to far exceed his assets, and soon incurs the inevitable 
 crash. That is how pride works in one very obvious 
 department of social life. But it is the same in every 
 other department. Who can calculate the miseries 
 which are produced by the grotesque assumptions of 
 poor mortals to be superior to their fellow-mortals ? 
 Parents will mar their children's lives by refusing their 
 consent to marriages with those who, for some perfectly 
 artificial reason, are held to be beneath them ; or will 
 still more fatally ruin their children's happiness by 
 insisting on alliances with those who are held to be 
 above them. Those who prosper in the world will 
 heartlessly turn their backs on relations who have not 
 prospered. Men who earn their living in one particular 
 way, or in no particular way, will loftily contemn those 
 who earn their Hving in another particular way. Those 
 who dress in the fashion will look in another direction 
 when they pass people who do not dress in the fashion, 
 though they may be under deep obligations to these 
 slighted friends. This is all the work of pride. Then 
 there are the sneers, the taunts, the sarcasms, the proud 
 man's scorn, like " a rod in the mouth " indeed,^ which 
 falls with cutting cruelty on many tender backs and 
 gentle faces. The overbearing temper of one who 
 ^' bears himself insolently and is confident "^ will some- 
 times take all the sweetness out of life for some delicate 
 woman, or shrinking child, or humble dependent, bruising 
 the poor spirit, rending the terrified heart, unnerving 
 and paralysing the weaker and more helpless nature. 
 
 From first to last this haughty spirit is a curse and 
 a torment to everyone, and not least to itself It is 
 
 ' Prov. xiv, 3. ^ Prov. xiv, 16. 
 
xiii. i-iS;xvi.20.] PRIDE AND HUMILITY. 1S7 
 
 like a cold and biting wind. It is like an erosive acid. 
 It produces more sorrows than the north wind produces 
 icicles. It mars more lives than anyone but God is 
 able to count. It breaks the hearts of the humble, it 
 excites the passions of the wrathful, it corrupts the 
 conduct of the weak. It ruins children, it poisons 
 social life, it inflames differences, and plunges great 
 nations into war. 
 
 If it were permitted to enter heaven, it would turn 
 heaven into hell, it would range the hosts of heaven in 
 envious cliques and mutually scornful castes, it would 
 make the meek spirit sigh for earth, where there was at 
 least the hope of death, and would turn the very presence 
 and power of God into a constant object of envy and an 
 incentive to rebellion. It is obvious, then, that pride 
 cannot enter heaven, and the proud man, if he is to 
 enter, must humble himself as a little child. 
 
 Third — and this leads us to contemplate the worst 
 result of Pride and the loveliest outcome of Humility — 
 *' Every one that is proud of heart is an abomination to 
 the Lord ; though hand join in hand he shall not be 
 unpunished."^ "The Lord will root up the house of 
 the proud ; but He will establish the border of the 
 widow." " In a word, Pride is hateful to God, who 
 resists the proud and gives grace to the humble. The 
 proud man, whether he knows it or not, comes into 
 direct conflict with God : he may not intend it, but he is 
 pitting himself against the Omnipotent. That hardening 
 of the face is a sign of evil, just as the patient humble 
 ordering of the way is a sign of righteousness.^ In that 
 high look and proud heart there seems to be something 
 
 ' Prov. xvi. 5. 2 I'rov. xv. 25. ^ Prov. xxi. 29. 
 
1 88 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 dignified, flashing, and luminous ; it is undoubtedly 
 much admired by men. By God it is not admired ; it is 
 regarded merely as the lamp of the wicked, and as sin.^ 
 The light, such as it is, comes from hell ; it is the same 
 light that burned on the faces of the apostate angels 
 " o'erwhelmed with floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous 
 fire." The proud man dares the thunderbolts of God. 
 He scorns men whom he sees, and in doing so he scorns 
 God whom he has not seen ; the men whom he con- 
 sciously scorns cannot, but the God whom he unwit- 
 tingly scorns will, take vengeance upon him. He has 
 hardened his heart, he has grown great in his own eyes, 
 he has despised the creatures made in God's image ; he 
 will suddenly be cut off, and that without remedy. 
 
 On the other hand, by humility men learn to know 
 and to fear the Lord.^ God reveals Himself to the 
 humble heart, not as a King of Terrors, but kind and 
 good, with healing in His wings, leading the contrite 
 spirit to implicit trust in Himself, and " whoso trusteth 
 in the Lord, happy is he." ^ When we reahze this we 
 cannot wonder that so few people seem to know God ; 
 men are too proud ; they think of themselves more 
 highly than they ought to think, and consequently they 
 do not think at all of Him ; they receive honour one 
 of another, and eagerly desire such honour, and con- 
 sequently they cannot believe in Him, for to beHeve in 
 Him implies the desire of no honour except such as 
 comes from Him. 
 
 It is a strange truth that God should dwell in a 
 
 ^ Prov. xxi. 4. 
 
 ^ Prov. xxii. 4. The probable rendering is, " The outcome ol 
 humility is the fear of the Lord, riches, honour, and life." 
 * Prev. xvi. 20. 
 
xiii. i-iS;xvi.20.] PRIDE AND HUMILITY. 189 
 
 human heart at all, but it is almost self-evident that 
 if He is to dwell in any human heart it must be in 
 one which has been emptied of all pride, one which 
 has, as it were, thrown down all the barriers of self- 
 importance, and laid itself open to the incoming Spirit. 
 If we cling to ever so little of our natural egotism ; if we 
 dwell on any imagined excellence, purity, or power of 
 our own ; if we are conscious of any elation, any spring- 
 ing sense of merit, which would set us, in our own 
 judgment, on some equality with God, — how could 
 the High and Lofty One that inhabiteth Eternity enter 
 in ? That thought of vanity would seek to divide our 
 nature with Him, would enter into negotiations for a 
 joint occupation, and the insulted Spirit of God would 
 depart. 
 
 If in ordinary human affairs " before destruction the 
 heart of man is haughty, and before honour goeth 
 humility ; " ^ if even in our dealings with one another 
 happiness and success and prosperity depend on the 
 cultivation of a modest spirit, how much more when we 
 come to deal with God must haughtiness appear the 
 presage of destruction, and humility the only way of 
 approach to Him ! 
 
 It is not possible to think too humbly of yourself, it 
 is not possible to be too lowly, you cannot abase your- 
 self too much in His Holy Presence. Your only 
 attitude is that of Moses when he took off his shoes 
 because the place he stood on was holy ground; or that 
 of Isaiah when he cried out that he was " a man of 
 unclean lips." To those who know you your humilia- 
 tions may sound excessive, — as we are told the 
 
 * Prov. xviii. 12. 
 
IQO THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 disciples of St. Francis remonstrated with him for his 
 self-depreciation ^ — but not to God or to your own heart. 
 And He, if He has set His love upon you, and purposes 
 to make you a temple for His indweUing, will use 
 method after method of humbling you to prepare for 
 His entrance. Again and again you will say, Surely 
 now I am low enough, am I not humbled in the dust ? 
 But His hand will still be upon you, and He will show 
 you heads of pride which have yet to be levelled down. 
 In the last humbling you will find that there is rising 
 within you a certain pride in the humility itself. That 
 alsow^ill He subdue. And some day, if you are willing, 
 you shall be lowly enough for the Most High to dwell 
 in, humble enough to offer a perpetual incense of 
 praise. 
 
 * The answer of the saint was very characteristic. Could he 
 really believe that he was so vile as he said, when he compared 
 himself with others who were obviously worse? "Ah," he said, 
 " it is when I recount all God's exceptional mercies to me that I seem 
 to myself the worst of men, for others have not had such favours at 
 His hands." 
 
XIV. 
 
 THE INWARD UNAPPROACHABLE LIFE. 
 
 " The heart knoweth its own bitterness, and a stranger doth not 
 intermeddle with its joy," — Prov. xiv. lo. 
 
 " Even in laughter, the heart is sorrowful, and the end of mirth is 
 heaviness." — Prov. xiv. 13. 
 
 " Yes ! in the sea of life enisled, 
 With echoing straits between us thrown, 
 Dotting the shoreless watery wild. 
 We mortal millions live alone. 
 The islands feel the enclasping flow, 
 And then their endless bounds they know." 
 
 Matthew Arnold. 
 
 WE know each other's appearance, it is true, but 
 there for the most part our mutual knowledge 
 ceases. Some of us unveil nothing of ourselves to 
 anyone ; some of us unveil a little to all ; some a good 
 deal to a few ; but none of us can unveil all even to the 
 most intimate friend. It is possible to live on terms 
 of complete confidence and even close intimacy with a 
 person for many years, to become thoroughly acquainted 
 with his habits, his turns of expression, his modes of 
 thought, to be able to say with a certain infallibility 
 what course he will take in such and such circumstances 
 — and yet to find by some chance uplifting of a curtain 
 in his life that he cherished feelings which you never 
 even suspected, suffered pains of which you had seen 
 
192 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 no trace, and enjoyed pleasures which never came to 
 any outward expression. 
 
 H®w true this is we realize at once if we turn in- 
 wards and review all the thoughts which chase each 
 other through our brain, and all the emotions which 
 throb in our heart for a single day, and then deduct 
 those which are known to any human being, known or 
 even suspected ; the sum total we find is hardly affected 
 at all. We are quite startled to discover how absolutely 
 alone we live, how impossible it is for a stranger, or 
 even for an intimate friend, to meddle with more than 
 a fragment of our inner life. This is not because we 
 have any wish to conceal, but rather because we are 
 not able to reveal, our silent unseen selves ; it is not 
 because others would not like to know, but because 
 they have not the instruments to investigate, that 
 within us which we on our part are quite helpless to 
 express. 
 
 For instance, ^'the desire accomplished is sweet to 
 the soul,"^ yet no one can know how sweet but he 
 who cherished the desire. When a man has laboured 
 for many years to secure an adequate maintenance for 
 his family, and at length finds himself in easy circum- 
 stances, with his children growing up around him well 
 and happy, no one besides himself can in the least gauge 
 the sense of satisfaction, contentment, and gratitude 
 which animates his heart, because no one can realize 
 without actual experience the long and anxious days, 
 the sickening fears, the blighted hopes, the rigorous 
 sacrifices, through which he passed to attain his end. 
 Or, when an artist has been toiling for many years to 
 
 ' Prov. xiii. 19. 
 
xiv. lo, 13.] THE INIVARD UNAPPROACHABLE LIFE. 193 
 
 realize upon canvas a vision of beauty which floats 
 before the inward eye, and at last succeeds, by some 
 happy combination of colours, or by some dexterous 
 sweep of the brush, or by some half-inspired harmony 
 of form and composition, in actually bodying forth to 
 the senses that which has haunted his imagination, it 
 is hopeless for any one else to understand the thrilling 
 joy, the light-hearted ecstasy, which are hidden rather 
 than expressed by the quiet flush on the cheek and 
 the sparkling glance of the eye. 
 
 The mystical joy of a love which has just won an 
 answering love; the deep-toned joy of the mother in the 
 dawning life of her child ; the joy of the poet who feels 
 all the beauty of the earth and the sky pulsing through 
 his nerves and raising his heart to quick intuitions and 
 melodious numbers ; the joy of the student, when the 
 luminous outhnes of truth begin to shape themselves 
 before his mind in connected form and startling beauty ; 
 the joy of one who has toiled for the restoration of lost 
 souls, and sees the fallen and degraded awaking to 
 a new life, cleansed, radiant and strong ; the joy of 
 the martyr of humanity, whose dying moments are lit 
 with visions, and who hears through the mysterious 
 silences of death the voices of those who will one day 
 call him blessed, — joys like these may be described in 
 words, but they who experience them know that the 
 words are, relatively speaking, meaningless, and they 
 who do not experience them can form no conception 
 of them. "When the desire cometh it is a tree of life,"^ 
 which suddenly springs up in the garden of the heart, 
 puts forth its jubilant leaves of healing, flashes with 
 
 ' Prov. xiii. 12. 
 
 13 
 
194 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS 
 
 white wings of scented blossom, and droops with its 
 full offering of golden fruit, as if by magic, and we are 
 surprised ourselves that those around us do not see 
 the wonder, do not smell the perfume, do not taste 
 the fruit : we alone can sit under its branches, we 
 alone can catch the murmur of the wind, the music of 
 achievement, in its leaves. 
 
 But this thought becomes very pathetic when we 
 think of the heart's bitterness, which the heart alone 
 can know,' — the hope deferred which makes it sick, ^ 
 the broken spirit which dries up the bones,^ the spirit 
 which for so long bore a man's infirmity, and then at 
 last broke because it could bear no more, and became 
 itself intolerable.^ The circumstances of a man's life 
 do not give us any clue to his sorrows ; the rich have 
 troubles which to the poor would seem incredible, and 
 the poor have troubles which their poverty does not 
 explain. There are little constitutional ailments, defects 
 in the blood, slight deformities, unobserved disabilities, 
 which fill the heart with a bitterness untold and un- 
 imaginable. There are crosses of the affections, dis- 
 appointments of the ambitions ; there are frets of the 
 family, worries of business ; there are the haunting 
 Furies of past indiscretions, the pitiless reminders of 
 half- forgotten pledges. There are weary doubts and 
 misgivings, suspicions and fears, which poison all in- 
 ward peace, and take light out of the eye and elasticity 
 out of the step. These things the heart knows, but 
 no one else knows. 
 
 What adds to the pathos is that these sorrows are 
 often covered with laughter as with a veil, and no one 
 
 * Prov. xiii. 12. ^ Prov. xvii. 22. ^ Pro v. xviii. 14. 
 
xiv. lo, 13.] THE INJVARD UNAPPROACHABLE LIFE. 195 
 
 suspects that the end of all this apparently spontaneous 
 mirth is to be heaviness.^ The bright talker, the merry 
 jester, the singer of the gay song, goes home when the 
 party separates, and on his threshold he meets the 
 veiled sorrow of his life, and plunges into the chilly 
 shadow in which his days are spent. 
 
 The bitterness which surges in our brother's heart 
 would probably be unintelligible to us if he revealed it ; 
 but he will not reveal it, he cannot. He will tell us 
 some of his troubles, many of them, but the bitterness 
 he must keep to himself. 
 
 How strange it seems ! Here are men and women 
 around us who are unfathomable ; the heart is a kind 
 of infinite ; we skim the surface, we cannot sound the 
 depths. Here is a merry heart which makes a cheerful 
 countenance, but here is a countenance unclouded and 
 smiling which covers a spirit quite broken.- Here is a 
 cheerful heart which enjoys a continual feast,^ and finds 
 in its own merriment a medicine for its troubles ;* but 
 we cannot find the secret of the cheerfulness, or catch 
 the tone of the merriment, any more than we can com- 
 prehend what it is which is making all the days of the 
 afflicted evil."' 
 
 We are confined as it were to the superficial effects, 
 the lights and shadows which cross the face, and the 
 feelings which express themselves in the tones of the 
 voice. We can guess a little of what lies underneath, 
 but our guesses are as often wrong as right. The 
 index is disconnected, perhaps purposely, from the 
 reality. Sometimes we know that a heart is bitter, 
 
 Prov. xiv. 13. ' Prov. xv. 156. * Prov. xv. 15. 
 
 '' Prov xvii. 22. 
 
196 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 but do not even surmise the cause ; more often it is 
 bitter and we do not know it. We are veiled to one 
 another ; we know our own troubles, we feel our own 
 joys, that is all we can say. 
 
 And yet the strangest thing of all is that we hunger 
 for sympathy ; we all want to see that light in the eyes 
 of our friends which rejoices the heart, and to hear 
 those good things which make the bones fat.^ Our 
 joy is eager to disclose itself, and often shrinks back 
 appalled to find that our companions did not under- 
 stand it, but mistook it for an affectation or an illusion. 
 Our sorrow yearns for comprehension, and is constantly 
 doubled in quantity and intensity by finding that it 
 cannot explain itself or become intelligible to others. 
 This rigid and necessary isolation of the human heart, 
 along with such a deep-rooted desire for sympathy, is 
 one of the most perplexing paradoxes of our nature ; 
 and though we know well that it is a fact, we are 
 constantly re-discovering it with a fresh surprise. For- 
 getting it, we assume that every one will know how 
 we need sympathy, though we have never hung out 
 the signals of distress, and have even presented a most 
 repellent front to all advances ; forgetting it, we give 
 expression to our joy, singing songs to heavy hearts, 
 and disturbing others by unseasonable mirth, as ii 
 no icy channels separated us from our neighbours' 
 hearts, making our gladness seem frigid and our 
 merriment discordant before it reaches their ears. 
 Yes the paradox forces itself on our attention again; 
 human hearts are isolated, alone, without adequate 
 communication, and essentially uncommunicative, yet 
 
 * Prov. XV. 30. 
 
xiv. 10, 13.] THE IMVARD UXAPrROACIIABLE LIFE, igj 
 
 all of them eagerly desiring to be understood, to be 
 searched, to be fused. Is it a paradox which admits 
 of any explanation ? Let us see. 
 
 It has been very truly said, " Man is only partially 
 understood, or pitied, or loved by man ; but for the 
 fulness of these things he must go to some far-off 
 country." In proportion as we are conscious of being 
 misunderstood, and of being quite unable to satisfy our 
 longing for sympathy and comprehension at human 
 fountains, we are impelled by a spiritual instinct 
 to ask for God ; the thought arises in us that He, 
 though He be very far off, must, as our Creator, 
 understand . us ; and as this thought takes possession 
 of the heart a tremulous hope awakes that perhaps 
 He is not very far off. There lie before us now 
 some beautiful sayings which are partly the expression 
 of this human conviction, and seem partly to be 
 inspired by the Divine response to it. "If thou 
 sayest, Behold, we knew not this man ; doth not 
 He that weigheth the heart consider, and he that 
 keepeth the soul, doth not He know ? " ^ "The hear- 
 ing ear, and the seeing eye, the Lord hath made even 
 both of them." ^ How obvious is the inference that 
 the Maker of the ear and the eye hears those silent 
 things which escape the ear itself, and sees those 
 recesses of the human heart which the human eye is 
 never able to search ! " The eyes of the Lord are in 
 every place, keeping watch upon the evil and the good."^ 
 '' Sheol and Abaddon are before the Lord : how much 
 more then the hearts of the children of men." * He 
 
 ' Prov. xxiv. 12, marginal reading. ^ Prov. xv. 3, 
 
 * Prov. XX. 12. * Prov. xv. ii. 
 
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 sees in the heart what the heart itself does not see. 
 *' All the ways of a man are clean in his own eyes, but 
 the Lord weigheth the spirits." ^ In fact, the spirit 
 of man itself, the consciousness which clears into self- 
 consciousness, and becomes in moral matters conscience, 
 this " spirit, is the lamp of the Lord, searching all the 
 innermost parts of the belly," '" so that a '' man's goings 
 are of the Lord ; " and he is often moved by this in- 
 dwelling spirit and guided by this mysterious lamp in 
 a way which ''he can hardly understand." ^ 
 
 This intimacy of knowledge is not without its most 
 solemn, and even terrible, side. It means of course 
 that the Lord knows '' the thoughts of the righteous 
 which are just, and the counsels of the wicked which 
 are deceit." ^ It means that out of His minute and 
 infallible knowledge He will render to every man 
 according to his works, judging with faultless accuracy 
 according to that "desire of a man which is the measure 
 of his kindness," recognizing the " wish of the poor 
 man," which, though he has not power to perform it, is 
 more valuable than the boasted performances of those 
 who never act up to their power of service.'^ It means 
 that ''the Lord trieth the hearts just as the fining pot 
 tries the silver, and the furnace the gold." ^ It means 
 that in thought of such a searching eye, such a compre- 
 hensive understanding on the part of the Holy One, 
 none of us can ever say, " I have made my heart 
 clean, I am pure from my sin." '^ 
 
 All this it means, and there must be some terror in 
 
 ' Prov. xvi. 2, rep. xxi. 2. ^ Prov. xix. 22. 
 
 ■^ Prov. XX. 27. ^ Prov. xvii. 3. 
 
 ^ Prov. XX. 24. ' Prov. xx. 9. 
 * Prov. xii. 5. 
 
xiv. lo, 13-] THE INWARD UNAPPROACHABLE LIFE. 199 
 
 the thought ; but the terror, as we begin to under- 
 stand, becomes our greatest comfort ; for He who 
 thus understands us is the Holy One. Terrible would 
 it be to be searched and known in this minute way 
 by one who was not holy, by one who was morally 
 indifferent, by one who took a curious interest in 
 studying the pathology of the conscience, or by one 
 who had a malignant delight in cherishing vices and 
 rewarding evil thoughts. Though we sometimes desire 
 human sympathy in our corrupt passions and unhal- 
 lowed desires, and are eager for our confederates in 
 sin to understand our pleasures and our pains, — and 
 out of this desire, it may be observed, comes much 
 of our base literature, and all of our joining with a 
 company to do evil, — yet after all we only desire this 
 confederacy on the understanding that we can reveal 
 as little, and conceal as much, as we like ; we should 
 no longer be eager to share our feelings if we under- 
 stood that in the first contact our whole heart would 
 be laid bare, and all the intricacies of our mind would 
 be explored. We must desire that He who is to search 
 us through and through should be holy, and even though 
 He be strict to mark iniquity, should be one who tries 
 the heart in order to purify it. And when we are 
 awakened and understand, we learn to rejoice exceed- 
 ingly that He who comes with His lamp to search 
 the inmost recesses of our nature is He who can by 
 no means tolerate iniquity, or pass over transgression, 
 but must burn as a mighty fire wherever He finds the 
 fuel of sin to burn. 
 
 Have we not found a solution of the paradox ? The 
 human heart is isolated ; it longs for sympathy, but 
 cannot obtain it ; it seems to depend for its happiness 
 
200 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 on being comprehended, but no fellow-creature can 
 comprehend it ; it knows its own bitterness, which no 
 one else can know ; it broods over its own joys, but 
 no one can share them. Then it makes discovery of 
 the truth that God can give it what it requires, that 
 He fully understands, that He can enter into all these 
 silent thoughts and unobserved emotions, that He can 
 offer an unfailing sympathy and a faultless compre- 
 hension. In its need the lonely heart takes refuge in 
 Him, and makes no murmur that His coming requires 
 the searching, the chastisement, and the purging of 
 sin. 
 
 No human being needs to be misunderstood or to 
 suffer under the sense of misunderstanding. Let him 
 turn at once to God. It is childish to murmur against 
 our fellows, who only treat us as we treat them ; they 
 do not comprehend us, neither do we comprehend 
 them ; they do not give us, as we think, our due, 
 neither do we give them theirs ; but God comprehends 
 both them and us, and He gives to them and to us 
 accurately what is due. 
 
 No human being is compelled to bear his bitterness 
 alone, for though he cannot tell it or explain to his 
 fellows, he can tell it, and he need not explain it, to 
 God. Is the bitterness an outcome of sin, as most of 
 our bitterness is ? Is it the bitterness of a wounded 
 egotism, or of a remorseful conscience, or of spiritual 
 despondency ? Or is it the bitterness which springs 
 from the cravings of an unsatisfied heart, the thirst for 
 self-completeness, the longing for a perfect love ? In 
 either case God is perfectly able and willing to meet 
 the need. He delights to turn His knowledge of our 
 nature to the purpose of cleansing and transforming 
 
xiv. lo, 13.] THE INJVARD UNAPPROACHABLE UEE. 201 
 
 the sinful heart: " By His knowledge shall My righteous 
 servant justify many," He says. I le is ready, too, to 
 slied abroad His own rich love in our hearts, leaving 
 no room for the hankering desire, and creating the 
 peace of a complete fulfilment. 
 
 No human being need imagine that he is unappre- 
 ciated ; his fellow-men may not want him, but God 
 does. "The Lord hath made every thing for His own 
 purpose, yea, even the wicked for the day of evil." ^ He 
 apprehends all that is good in your heart, and will not 
 suffer a grain of pure gold to be lost ; while He sees too 
 every particle of evil, and will not suffer it to continue. 
 He knows where the will is set upon righteousness, 
 where the desire is turned towards Him, and will 
 delicately encourage the will, and bountifully satisfy 
 the desire. He sees, too, when the will is hardened 
 against Him, and the desire is set upon iniquity, and 
 He is mercifully resolved to visit the corrupt will and 
 the evil desire with "eternal destruction from the face of 
 the Lord, and from the glory of His might," — mercifully, 
 I say, for no torture could be more terrible and hope- 
 less than for the evil man to live eternally in the 
 presence of God. 
 
 Finally, no human being need be without a sharer 
 of his joy : and that is a great consideration, for joy 
 unshared quickly dies, and is from the beginning 
 
 ' Prov. xvi. 4. This strange sajang, interpreted in the hght of the 
 Gospel, cannot mean that wicked people are actually made in order 
 to exhibit the righteousness and judgment of God in their punish- 
 ment on the day of wrath, though that was probably the thought in the 
 mind of the writer. But it reminds us of the truth that every human 
 being is a direct concern of the Maker, who has His own wise 
 purpose to fulfil in even the most inconsiderable and apparently 
 abortive life. 
 
^HE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 haunted by a vague sense of a shadow that is falling 
 upon it. In the heart of the Eternal dwells eternal joy. 
 All loveliness, all sweetness, all goodness, all truth, 
 are the objects of His happy contemplation ; therefore 
 every really joyful heart has an immediate sympathiser 
 in God ; and prayer is quite as much the means by 
 which we share our gladness as the vehicle by which 
 we convey our sorrows to the Divine heart. Is it not 
 beautiful to think of all those timid and retiring human 
 spirits, who cherish sweet ecstasies, and feel glowing 
 exultations, and are frequently caught up in heavenly 
 raptures, which the shy countenance and stammering 
 tongue never could record ? They feel their hearts 
 melt with joy in the prospect of broad skies and sunlit 
 fields, in the sound of morning birds and rushing 
 streams ; they hear great choirs of happy spirits 
 chanting perpetually in heaven and in earth, and on 
 every side of their obscure way open vistas of inspired 
 vision. No stranger meddles with their joy, or even 
 knows of it. God is not a stranger ; to Him they tell 
 it all, with Him they share it, and their joy is part of 
 the joy of the Eternal. 
 
XV. 
 
 A PASSIONATE DISPOSITION. 
 
 " A soft answer turneth away wrath : but a grievous word stirrcth 
 up anger." In the LXX. there is another clause inserted at the be- 
 ginning. '0/37rj dTrdWvcTL Kai (ppovi/xovs, diroKpLais 5^ viroiriirTOvaa 
 dTTOffrpe'^ei dv/x6v, \670s dt \v7rrjpbs iyeipcL dpyds.^' — Prov. xv. I. 
 
 "A meek tongue is a tree of hfe : but pervcrseness therein is a 
 breaking of the spirit." — Prov. xv. 4. 
 
 " A wrathful man stirreth up contention : but he that is slow to 
 anger appcaseth strife." — Prov. xv. 18. 
 
 BAD temper causes more suffering than the modified 
 severity with which we judge it would imply. It 
 is in a home what toothache is in the body : the pain is 
 insufferable and yet it is not treated as serious. A 
 passionate man or woman spreads a pervading sense of 
 irritation in the house or in the workshop, and all the 
 other occupants of the place are as if they dwelt in a 
 country subject to earthquakes ; life for them is divided 
 between anxiety to avoid the explosion and a painful 
 effort to repair its devastations. We are not severe 
 enough on these faults of temper in ourselves or in others; 
 we are too prone to excuse them on the ground of tem- 
 perament, as if we were no more responsible for out- 
 breaks of passion than for the colour of our hair or the 
 tone of our complexion. It will, therefore, do us good 
 to see what the Wise Man says on the subject. 
 
 First of all, we have several proverbs which remind 
 
204 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 US how irritating an angry disposition is : it is the con- 
 stant occasion of strife ; it grows itself by each fresh 
 annoyance that it gives, so that it quickly becomes un- 
 governable, and thus " the wrathful man aboundeth in 
 transgression." ^ A fierce ungovernable temper will set 
 a whole city in a flame,^ and lead to disasters of national 
 and even world-wide extent. However peaceful and 
 happy a community may be, if a choleric man enters 
 it, signs of combustion will soon begin to appear. 
 There are always hot embers which wise men are 
 earnestly trying to damp down,- there are trivial 
 irritations, petty annoyances, incipient envies, which 
 are only too easily inflamed ; the cool spirit and the 
 conciliatory word and the ingenious diversion of 
 thought will keep the embers choked until the heat 
 dies away, but '^ as coals to hot embers, and wood to 
 fire, so is a contentious man to inflame strife." ^ 
 
 We may well be cautioned to give such an inflam- 
 matory character a wide berth ; '' Make no friendship 
 with a man that is given to anger ; and with a wrathful 
 man thou shalt not go : lest thou learn his ways, and 
 get a snare to thy soul." ^ Even a sweet temper may 
 be chafed into peevishness by constant irritations ; 
 with passionate people the gentlest become passionate 
 in self-defence. When this unbridled, ill-disciplined 
 nature approaches, we should avoid it as if it were a 
 bear robbed of her whelps, for such is this fool in his 
 folly.^ 
 
 This leads us to notice that anger and folly are very 
 closely allied. The passionate nature is constantly 
 
 ' Prov. xxix. 22. ^ Prov. xxvi. 21. ^ Prov. xvii, 12. 
 
 ^ Prov. xxix. 8. * Prov. xxii 24. 
 
XV. 1,4, I S.] A PASSIONATE DISPOSITION. 205 
 
 betrayed into actions which sober wisdom must con- 
 demn, — '^ He that is soon angry will deal foolishly. . . . 
 He that is slow to anger is of great understanding : but 
 he that is hasty of spirit exalteth folly." ^ Any one 
 with a grain of sense will put a check upon his rising 
 temper ; his discretion makes him slow to anger, and 
 he never feels to have won such true glory as when 
 he bridles his wrath and passes by an offence without 
 a sign of annoyance or resentment." You may almost 
 be sure that a man is wise if you find that he has a 
 cool spirit.^ When you see a person who cautiously 
 avoids the ground where strife is apt to be excited, 
 and builds his house on a spot where contention is 
 impossible, you instinctively respect him, for you 
 know it betokens wisdom ; but when you see a man 
 always getting involved in quarrels, always showing 
 his teeth,* you rightly conclude that he is a fool.^ ** A 
 fool uttereth all his anger : but a wise man keepeth it 
 back and stilleth it." ^ If we are naturally irritable or 
 
 ' Prov. xiv. 17, 29. 
 
 * Prov. xix. II. "When Lanfranc was prior of Bee he ventured to 
 oppose Duke William's Flemish marriage. In a wild burst of wrath 
 William bade his men burn a manor house of Bee and drive out Lan- 
 franc from Norman ground. He came to see the work done, and found 
 Lanfranc hobbling on a lame horse towards the frontier. He angrily 
 bad him hasten, and Lanfranc replied by a cool promise to go faster out 
 of his land if he would give him abetter steed. 'You are the first 
 criminal that ever asked gifts from his judge,' retorted William, but 
 a burst of laughter told that the wrath had gone, and William and 
 Lanfranc drew together again." — Green's Conquest of England, p. 551. 
 
 * Prov. xvii. 27. 
 
 * This word ]!b\T\^^ which only occurs here (xx. 3) and in xvii. 14 
 and xviii. i, would seem from the cognate root in Arab, and Syr. to 
 mean "setting the teeth together," which is a much more vivid and 
 specific idea than quarrelling. 
 
 * Prov. xx. 3. * Prov. xxix. ii. 
 
2o6 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 splenetic, wisdom will incline us to avoid occasions 
 which excite us, and to keep a watchful guard over our 
 spirits where the occasions are inevitable. If we 
 neglect such precautions we shall justly be counted 
 fools, and the consequent outbreaks of passion will 
 lead us into fresh exhibitions of folly, and more com- 
 pletely justify the harsh judgment which has been 
 passed upon us. 
 
 But not the least sign of the folly which is inherent 
 in passion is the shocking effect which it has upon 
 those who give way to it. As the LXX. version says 
 at the beginning of this chapter, '' Anger destroys even 
 the wise." And one whose spirit is without restraint 
 is forcibly compared to a city that is broken down and 
 has no wall ; ^ every foe can go up and possess it, 
 every thoughtless child can fling a firebrand into it ; 
 the barest word, hint, smirk, shrug of the shoulders, 
 any unintentional slight or reflection, nay, even silence 
 itself, will suddenly set the powder-train on fire, and 
 the consequent explosion will be more destructive to 
 the city itself than to those who are outside. ''A man 
 of great wrath shall bear the penalty," and, poor fellow, 
 perhaps it is best that he should, for if you deliver 
 him from the consequence of his passion, that will only 
 encourage him in further outbreaks, and so he will 
 become worse, and your deliverance will be an endless 
 task.2 
 
 Our great King Henry II. was subject to fits of 
 uncontrollable passion, in which he would roll on the 
 floor and bite the dust, impotent with rage ; and all 
 the sorrows of his life and reign, falling heavily upon 
 
 * Prov. XXV. 28. ^ Prov. xix, 19. 
 
XV. 1,4, I S] A PASSIONATE DISPOSITION. 207 
 
 him in his later years, were occasioned by this unhappy 
 temper. At the present time we are told that the 
 Chinese frequently indulge in fits of passionate wrath, 
 which react terribly upon their health and make them 
 phj'sically ill. The wrathful man does mischief to 
 many, but his wrath is like an old arquebus, which, 
 when it is fired, hurts the bearer almost as much as 
 the enemy. It may fail to hit the mark, but it is sure 
 to knock down the marksman. 
 
 Probably here the plea will be urged that we cannot 
 help our temper, and it may be said, the suffering which 
 it brings upon us is the best proof that it is an infirmity 
 rather than a vice. Now this excuse cannot be allowed 
 to pass ; a certain good bishop on one occasion hearing 
 it urged, in extenuation of a man's conduct, that he had 
 such an unfortunate temper, exclaimed, " Temper, why 
 temper is nine-tenths of Christianity ! " If we are not 
 to be blamed for bad temper, then there is no fault or 
 defect or vice which we cannot shift off our own 
 shoulders and lay to the charge of our constitution. 
 But our constitution is no excuse for sin ; the most 
 that can be urged is that if we are constitutionally 
 inclined to any particular sin we must seek for a special 
 strength to fortify us against it. If in building a city 
 an ancient engineer had one side more exposed than 
 the rest, protected by no natural escarpments of rock 
 or bends of the river, there he would concentrate all 
 his skill to make the wall impregnable. If you find 
 that one of your bodily organs betrays a tendency to 
 disease, you are careful to avoid the exposure, or the 
 strain, or the derangement, which would unfavourably 
 affect it. If your lungs are delicate you shun fogs and 
 chills ; if your heart is feeble you are careful to avoid 
 
208 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 any sudden excitement ; if your eyes are weak you 
 notice very particularly by what light you read, and 
 are sensitive to the least weariness in those delicate 
 instruments. In the same way, if your special infirmity 
 lies in the temper ; if you are easily provoked, or apt 
 to fall into sullenness ; if a sudden annoyance excites 
 an uncontrollable passion in your mind, or drops into 
 your heart seeds of bitterness which rapidly grow and 
 become ineradicable ; you have your work cut out for 
 you ; your daily task will be to avoid the things which 
 produce such ill effects, and to cultivate the habits 
 which lessen the virulent action of these irritant poisons. 
 Few of us realize how wonderfully our constitution is 
 subjected to our own control, and how much we our- 
 selves have to do with the making of it. 
 
 You know, we will suppose, that you are easily 
 entangled in a quarrel ; you must then prepare your- 
 self before you go out into the business of the day, — 
 ^' Go not forth hastily to strive, lest . . . What wilt 
 thou do in the end, when thy neighbour hath put thee 
 to shame ? " ^ This realization of what will probably 
 result from your hasty temper will act as a check upon 
 it, and you will be inclined, if you have any ground 
 of offence against your neighbour, to go quietly and 
 debate it with him alone."^ Or if the contention has 
 been sprung upon you unawares, take care that over 
 the floodgates of your passion has been written this 
 wholesome warning, " The beginning of strife is as 
 when one letteth out water : therefore leave off con- 
 tention, before there be any setting of the teeth." ^ 
 Knowing your danger you must summon to your aid 
 
 ' Prov. XXV 8. - Prov. xxv. 9. ^ Prov. xvii, 14. See note \ p. 205. 
 
XV. 1,4, I S.] A PASSIONATE DISPOSITION. 209 
 
 all the heroism of your nature, and remember that this 
 is the time and the occasion to exercise it. Others 
 have to win their spurs on the battlefield ; this is your 
 battlefield, and here your spurs are to be won. Others 
 have to win kingdoms or capture cities ; here is the 
 kingdom where you are to reign, this is the city which 
 you are to take. " He that is slow to anger is better 
 than the mighty ; and he that rulcth his spirit than he 
 that taketh a city." ^ 
 
 Get at some grand root principle like this : " Hatred 
 stirreth up strifes: but love covereth all transgressions."^ 
 Ah, yes, if you are disposed to be angry with men, fill 
 your spirit with love to them ; that will soothe your 
 irritable nerves, and will flow over their transgressions 
 so that they cease to annoy you because you cease to 
 see them ; w^hen we are fervent in love to one another, 
 the love covers a multitude of sins.^ Where love comes 
 into the soul w^e are more anxious to convert those who 
 offend us than to be angry with them.^ Love saves us 
 from the self-vaunting which exposes us to the annoy- 
 ances, and provokes the attacks, of the malignant ; '" and 
 it enables us to bear all things, almost without a ruffle 
 or a perturbation. Strange to say, passionate tempera- 
 ments are often very affectionate ; let them cultivate 
 the love in themselves, and it will be the destruction 
 of the evil temper. And where the evil passion comes 
 from a true moroseness, then the fruit can only be 
 destroyed with the root, and the root can only be 
 destroyed when love is shed abroad in the heart. 
 
 Or possibl}^ 3^our anger is not of the passionate kind, 
 
 ' Prov. xvi. 32. ' I Peter iv. 8. ^ i Cor. xiii. 4. 
 
 * Prov. X. 12. * James v. 20. 
 
 14 
 
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 but rather stern and resentful, arising from an exag- 
 gerated sense of self-importance. A meek ^ heart is not 
 wrathful, and it is the life of the flesh ; but where 
 meekness fails, envy enters as rottenness of the bones, 
 and with envy, hatred and malice.^ A meek^ tongue 
 not only checks wrath in itself, but soothes it in others ; 
 it is a tree of life, just as perverseness in it is a break- 
 ing of the spirit.^ If you thought less of yourself, you 
 would not so frequently feel your dignity offended ; you 
 would not require this weapon of wrath always at hand 
 to leap forth and avenge your outraged pride. From 
 the meek heart vengeance dies away. " Say not thou, 
 I will recompense evil : wait on the Lord, and He shall 
 save thee."^ You are sudden and quick in quarrel, 
 because you think of yourself more highly than you 
 ought to think ; and because others do not share your 
 opinion of yourself, you must summon all your artillery 
 of wrath to make them bend the stubborn knee and 
 offer you the due tribute of deference or admiration. 
 For if bad temper comes often from constitutional 
 infirmities which must be carefully watched and con- 
 trolled, it comes just as frequently from that subtle 
 enemy of our souls, Pride. 
 
 But now we come to the important question, How 
 are our evil passions to be cured ? And we must 
 frankly admit that our book has no suggestions to 
 offer. Its tendency is to regard our disposition as 
 fixed, our temperament as irreversible, our character 
 
 * This meaning of t<B*1Dj as was observed in Lecture XIL, p. 172, 
 seems to yield the best sense in these two passages (cp. xii. 18; xiii. 
 17), as in Eccl. x. 4, "gentleness allayeth great offences," which is a 
 good commentary on our text. 
 
 2 Prov. xiv. 30. ^ Prov. xv. 4. * Prov. xx. 22. 
 
XV. 1,4, I S.] A PASSIONATE DISPOSITION. 211 
 
 as unchangeable. It points out with crystalUne clear- 
 ness the mischief of wrath and the merit of meekness, 
 but it never so much as entertains the possibility that 
 the wrathful man might become meek, the passionate 
 man patient and gentle. 
 
 We have in our analysis of the evil observed that 
 in order to avoid it we must be vigilant to mark and 
 control the first risings of passion ; we have noted too 
 that if we were truly loving, anger would die away, 
 and if we were truly humble, the resentments which 
 stir our anger would have nothing to feed upon. But 
 the main difficulty is, how are we to become watchful, 
 since it is the special characteristic of a hasty temper 
 that it overpowers our sentinels before it assaults the 
 city ? And how are we to become loving and humble ? 
 It is only throwing the difficulty back a step or two, 
 and showing us how insuperable it is, to say that we 
 must become good in one direction in order to escape 
 the evil which lies in another direction. It does not 
 help the Ethiopian to become a European to tell him 
 that Europeans have white skins instead of black ; nor 
 can a leopard change his kind because he learns that 
 his spots are his distinctive mark. 
 
 There must be a deeper message than that of the 
 Proverbs to solve this practical difficulty ; though we 
 may well feel that the book is invaluable in setting 
 before us how greatly we need a deeper message. No 
 infirmity of human nature proves more forcibly than 
 the one with which we are dealing that ** some thing 
 out of Nature" must come in if a change is to be 
 effected. " We must be born again ; " it is only a 
 regenerate heart which will have the impulse and the 
 ability to watch against the eruption of a passionate 
 
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 disposition. It is only a regenerate heart which can 
 love in such a way that irritations cease to fret, or 
 that can be humble enough to escape the exasperations 
 of wounded pride. Many of us think lightly of these 
 particular faults, and scarcely designate ill-temper a 
 sin at all ; but however we may regard it, the wrathful 
 disposition requires nothing less than Christ, and Him 
 crucified, to cure it, and God deemed it worth while to 
 send His only-begotten Son in order to effect the cure. 
 In Christ Jesus are forces, moral and spiritual, strong 
 enough to control the most uncontrollable rage and to 
 soothe the most irritable temper ; and as we can point 
 to no other power which is sufficient for such a change, 
 so few things manifest so strikingly the blessed pre- 
 sence of Christ in the heart as the softened and gentle 
 temper, the removal of all those explosive elements 
 which before He entered were constantly causing 
 trouble and suffering and alarm. 
 
 Here is an example taken from a country where the 
 knowledge of the Gospel is comparatively recent. A 
 Japanese gentleman living at Fujioka, who was much 
 addicted to the use of sake, a strong intoxicant, which 
 produced the worst results on his temper, was led 
 through reading a tract on the subject to renounce the 
 evil habit, and to accept Jesus Christ as his Saviour. 
 In proportion as the Divine power mastered him he 
 became a new creature. One day his wife had been 
 careless about some silkworms' eggs, which had become 
 partially destroyed, and she trembled with fear that 
 he would become enraged when he discovered it, and 
 punish her severely, as he had done before. But to her 
 great astonishment, when he found out what had hap- 
 pened he remained perfectly calm, and then said, ''We 
 
XV. 1,4. iS.] A PASSIONATE DISPOSITION. 213 
 
 can distribute them among our poor neighbours, and 
 so they will have a larger crop. Thus it will perhaps 
 be better than if we had sold them and taken all the 
 money ourselves." His wife was so impressed with 
 this change of character that she said, " This is the 
 result of Christianity ; I want to become a Christian 
 too." She sought and found, and her whole family 
 sought and found. And not only so, but the neigh- 
 bours were struck by this " living epistle," and shortly 
 afterwards when the missionary went to Fujioka 
 there were ten persons awaiting baptism. At the 
 present time a good Christian Church is growing up 
 in the place.^ 
 
 Where the Lord Jesus Christ reigns evil passions 
 subside and die away. " Learn of Me : for I am meek 
 and lowly of heart." " Blessed are the meek : for they 
 shall inherit the earth." One who is born again, one 
 whose life is hidden with Christ in God, is necessarily 
 meek, meek as the Lord Himself : not, as we well know, 
 devoid of noble anger or fiery indignation, for indeed 
 it is only the meek heart from which all personal pre- 
 tensions have been eradicated, and to which no personal 
 feeling can be attributed, that is able to pour out vials 
 of wrath, undeterred and unquenchable, upon all that 
 is base and mean, impure and false, corrupt and cruel ; 
 but meek in this beautiful sense, that it never takes 
 offence, never suspects evil, never resents any wrong 
 except moral wrong that is done to others, or spiritual 
 wrong done to God. All the tinder on which angry 
 passions feed has been removed by the Cross of Christ, 
 and therefore the only wrath which can be entertained 
 
 ' Missionary Review of the IVor/d, Feb. 1SS9, p. 143. 
 
214 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 is such wrath as God feels, — the deep intense glow of 
 consuming indignation against sin. 
 
 For our evil tempers, then, our passion, our wrath, 
 our sullen pride, our fretful irritability, our outbreaks 
 of sarcasm, our malignant sneers, there is only one 
 possible cure ; we must bring the heart, out of which 
 all the evil comes, to Jesus Christ, that He may create 
 it anew; we must accept our failures as evidence of 
 an imperfect surrender, and come afresh with a more 
 insistent cry, and a more perfect faith, that He may 
 reign in our hearts as undisputed Lord, checking, sub- 
 duing, warring down, every evil motion there. 
 
XVI. 
 
 A JUST BALANCE. 
 
 " A just balance and scales, are the Lord's : all the weights of 
 the bag are His work." — Prov. xvi. Ii. 
 
 *' A false balance is an abomination to the Lord : but a just weight 
 is His delight." — Prov. xi. I. 
 
 " Divers weights, and divers measures, both of them alike are an 
 abomination to the Lord." — Prov. xx. io. 
 
 " Divers weights are an abomination to the Lord ; and a false 
 balance is not good." — Prov. xx. 23. 
 
 THE sixteenth chapter opens — and we may annex 
 to it the last verse of chap. xv. — with a series of 
 sayings which are grouped together on the principle 
 that the name of the Lord occurs in each. There is 
 no obvious connection between the successive verses, 
 and some of them have been already touched on in 
 previous lectures, but it will be worth while to glance 
 at the series as a whole. 
 
 The Lord's presence must be recognised and rever- 
 enced before we can make any progress in wisdom, and 
 in His presence we must humble ourselves before we 
 can expect any honour.^ We are entirely dependent 
 upon Him ; although our hearts may form plans, we 
 cannot utter anything aright unless He controls our 
 tongue." However self-satisfied we may be with our 
 
 Prov. XV. 33. *^Prov. xvi. i. 
 
2i6 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 own ways, however convinced we may be of our own 
 innocence, He weighs our spirit, and will often find a 
 guilt which our conceit ignores, an impurity which our 
 vanity would hide.^ We should do well, therefore, to 
 commit all our works to Him, in order that He may 
 revise and correct our purposes and establish those 
 which are good.^ We cannot think too much of His 
 all-inclusive wisdom and knowledge ; everything lies 
 in His hands and is designed for His ends ; even the 
 wicked who rebel against Him — men like Pharaoh, 
 Nebuchadnezzar, Judas, Elymas — must in their inevit- 
 . able punishment glorify His righteousness and truth.^ 
 For punishment is absolutely sure ; the proud are an 
 abomination to Him, and though they combine to oppose 
 His will and to escape the penalty, it will be quite in 
 vain."^ On the other hand, where He sees mercy and 
 truth He will purge iniquity, and when men fear Him 
 they will depart from evil.^ When His smile is upon 
 them and He approves their ways. He will make their 
 path plain, pacifying their enemies, and making their 
 hearts glad.^ He will guide them, even directing 
 their steps, in such a manner that their own imperfect 
 counsels shall turn to a happy and successful issue."^ 
 ^' Whoso trusteth in the Lord, happy is he."^ Indeed 
 w^e cannot exaggerate the minute observation of the 
 Lord ; no detail escapes His e3'e, no event is beyond 
 His control ; even what is generally called Chance 
 is but another name for His unmarked and unknown 
 
 * Prov. xvi. 2. ^ Prov, xvi. 4. 5^^ note, p. 201. ^ Prov. xvi. 6. 
 
 2 Prov. xvi. 3. ^ Prov. xvi. 5. ^ Prov. xvi. 7. 
 
 ' Prov. xvi. 9. Cf. Prov. xix, 21 : "There are many devices in a 
 man's heart ; but the counsel of the Lord, that shall stand." 
 ^ Prov. xvi. 20. 
 
xvi, II ; xi. I ; xx. lO, 23.] A JUST BAT.ANCE. 217 
 
 direction ; the very lot — that lot which settles conten- 
 tions and separates the strong^ — cast into the lap 
 is actually disposed by Ilini;- much more, therefore, 
 are the deliberate transactions of commerce — those 
 subtle" bonds of the cash nexus which twine man 
 to man and nation to nation — under His constant in- 
 spection and a subject of His most interested concern, 
 — "a just balance and scales are the Lord's: all the 
 weights of the bag are His work," 
 
 It is, then, as part of the Lord's watchful activity 
 and direct, detailed connection with all the affairs of 
 human life, that He is interested in our business and 
 trade. We may notice at once that this is very cha- 
 racteristic of the Old Testament religion. In the 
 Deuteronomic Law it was written : " Thou shalt not 
 have in thy bag divers weights, a great and a small. 
 Thou shalt not have in thine house divers measures, 
 a great and a small. A perfect and a just weight shalt 
 thou have ; a perfect and just measure shalt thou have : 
 that thy days may be long upon the land which the 
 Lord thy God giveth thee. For all that do such things, 
 even all that do unrighteously, are an abomination unto 
 the Lord thy God." ^ Again, in the Levitical Law we 
 
 ' Prov. xviii, 18. John Paton, the missionary to the New Hebrides, 
 uncertain whether to go back to Scotland and plead for more mis- 
 sionaries, and receiving no light from human counsel, says, "After 
 many prayers and wrestlings and tears, I went alone before the Lord, 
 and on my knees cast lots with a solemn appeal to God, and the 
 answer came * Go home.' In my heart I believe that . . , the Lord 
 condescended to decide for me the path of duty, otherwise unknown ; 
 and I believe it the more truly now, in view of the aftercome of thirty 
 years of service to Christ that flowed out of the steps then deliberately 
 and devoutly taken."' Sec the Aiiiobiography, Second Part (Hodder 
 and Stoughton, 1889). 
 
 '^ Prov. xvi. 33. =* Deut. xxv, 1 3- 1 6. 
 
2i8 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 find : " Ye shall do no unrighteousness in judgment, 
 in meteyard, in weight, or in measure. Just balances, 
 just weights, a just ephah, and a just hin, shall ye have : 
 I am the Lord your God, which brought you out of the 
 land of Egypt." ^ 
 
 The Israelite was encouraged to think that all the 
 work in which he engaged was ordained by, and there- 
 fore under the observation of, his God. *' Hate not 
 laborious work, neither husbandry which the Most 
 High hath ordained," says Ecclesiasticus.^ And there 
 is a striking passage in Isaiah where the operations of 
 agriculture are described in detail, and all are attributed 
 to God, who instructs the husbandman aright and teaches 
 him. It all comes from the " Lord of hosts, which is 
 wonderful in counsel, and excellent in wisdom." ^ 
 
 But at present we are concerned only with trade as 
 a department of industrial life, and especially with 
 the actual chaffering of exchange, the barter of goods 
 for goods, the weights and measures which settle the 
 quantities, and the rules which must govern all such 
 transactions. We should gather that the commercial 
 fraud of those primitive times took this comparatively 
 simple form : the merchant would have, let us say, 
 a half shekel which came a little short of the regulation 
 weight; or he would have a cubit measure (i ft. 9 in.) 
 half an inch under a cubit ; or he would have a vessel 
 professing to hold a hin (i.e. a little more than a gallon), 
 but actually holding a little less than a gallon ; or he 
 would have a dry measure, marked as an ephah (i.e. about 
 three pecks), but incapable of holding the ostensible 
 quantity. In an ordinary way he would use these 
 
 Lev. xix. 2)2>} 3^' ^ Eccles. vii. 15. ^ Isa. xxviii. 23-29, 
 
xvi. 1 1 ; xi. I ; XX. lO, 23.] A JUST BALANCE. 219 
 
 inadequate measures, and thus nibble a little from every 
 article which he sold to a customer. But in the event 
 of a purchaser presenting himself who had a fuller 
 knowledge or might conceivably act as an inspector 
 and report the fraud to the judge, there would be a 
 just half shekel weight in the bag, a full cubit rule 
 hidden behind the counter, a hin or an cpJiaJi measure 
 of legal dimensions within easy reach. You may smile 
 at such primitive methods of deception, but it requires 
 many generations for a civilized society to elaborate 
 commercial fraud on the large scale. 
 
 Now passing at once to our own times and bringing 
 the truth of our text to illuminate them, I should like 
 to say a little to people engaged in business, whether 
 as employers or employed, whether the business is 
 wholesale or retail. And let me assure you that I am 
 not going to attempt a detailed examination and criti- 
 cism of 3^our business concerns. Such an attempt 
 would be grossly impertinent, and might well expose 
 me, not only to your indignation, but to your ridicule. 
 No, I do not believe that it is the part of the preacher 
 to meddle with matters which he does not understand ; 
 he only discredits his message by affecting an omni- 
 science which he cannot possibly possess. I have no 
 doubt that the youth who has been in a warehouse or 
 behind the counter for six months already knows more 
 of commercial habits, of trade practices, of the tempta- 
 tions and difficulties which practically press upon 
 people in business, than I know, or am likely to know 
 if I live to twice my present age. I shall not therefore 
 insult you by attempting to point out evils and expose 
 abuses, to denounce particular frauds, and to hold up 
 any special people or classes of people to moral repro- 
 
220 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 bation. My task is quite different ; it is this : — I am 
 to remind you, first, that God possesses that omni- 
 science to which I can lay no claim, and therefore is 
 intimately acquainted with all the transactions of your 
 bank, your warehouse, your office, your counter, your 
 w^orkshop ; and, secondly, that He regards with intense 
 satisfaction all fair dealing, and with vindictive indigna- 
 tion every fraud, and trick, and lie. And on the 
 strength of this I am to ask you very earnestly to 
 review your lives and your practices in the light of 
 His judgment, and to consider how you may bring 
 all your doings in business into conformity with His 
 will. 
 
 Perhaps you will let me, as a man speaking to his 
 fellow-men, as a Christian, I hope, speaking to his 
 fellow-Christians, expand these three points a little. 
 
 First. We are all of us tempted to think that a 
 considerable proportion of our life is too insignificant 
 to attract the particular attention of God. We can 
 understand that He takes notice of our entrance into, 
 and our exit from, the world, but we think that between 
 the two Hmits He leaves us to '^ devise our own ways." 
 Or possibly we can recognise His interest in the crises 
 of our life, but are incHned to question His minute care 
 of the common and monotonous routine. He marks 
 what business we enter, but, when we are in it, lets us 
 alone. He is interested in our marriage, but, when we 
 are married, leaves husband and wife to adjust their 
 own relations. Or He marks a large business transac- 
 tion in which there is room for a really gigantic fraud, 
 but cannot pay any attention to a minute sale over the 
 counter, the trivial adulteration of a common article, 
 the ingenious subterfuge for disposing of a damaged or 
 
xvi. 1 1 ; xi. I ; xx. lO, 23.] A JUST BALANCE. 221 
 
 useless stock. Is not this our unspoken but implicit 
 mode of reasoning ? And could anything be more 
 illogical ? The Divine Power which could create this 
 infinitely diversified universe must be able to mark every 
 tiniest detail of the tiniest object in it. Great and small 
 are relative terms, and have no significance to Him. 
 Naturalists tell us that in the scale of living creatures, 
 arranged according to size, the common beetle occupies 
 the middle point, the smallest living creature being as 
 much smaller as the largest is larger than it. And yet 
 the microscope, so far from showing that God takes less 
 care with the infinitesimal creations of His hand, rather 
 inclines us to say that the smaller the creature is, the 
 more delicate adjustment, the more exquisite propor- 
 tions, the more brilliant hues, does it display. Our 
 Lord brought home to us this minuteness of the Divine 
 Mind, this infinite power of embracing the veriest trifles 
 of the creation in His thought and care, by assuring us 
 that not a sparrow falls without His notice and that 
 the hairs of our heads are all numbered. 
 
 There is then no logical resting-place, when we are 
 thinking of the Mind of God. If He knows us at all, 
 He knows all about us. If He marks what we consider 
 the important things in our life. He marks equally what 
 we consider the unimportant things. The whole life, 
 with every detail from birth to death, is accurately 
 photographed in the light of His omniscience ; and 
 as the exposed plate of the camera receives many 
 details which escape the observation of our eyes, so 
 the smallest and least observed transaction in the daily 
 business, every figure entered truly or falsely in the 
 ledger, every coin dropped justly or dishonestly into 
 the till, every bale, every packet, every thread, every 
 
222 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 pin, which changes hands in the market, passes at once 
 into the observant and comprehending mind of God.^ 
 
 Second. But in this exhaustive and detailed know- 
 ledge of the -way in which you are conducting your 
 business. His warm approval follows everything that 
 is honest and just. His vehement censure lights on all 
 that is dishonest or unjust. It may come as a great 
 comfort to you to know that a little business matter 
 which cost you a considerable struggle the other day 
 was duly noted and recorded by the Lord. I was not 
 present at the time, nor did any one who was near 
 you in the least surmise what was passing. But 
 you suddenly recognised the possibiUty of making a 
 large profit by simply adopting a very slight subter- 
 fuge ; what made the case peculiarly difficult was that 
 neighbouring and rival firms to your certain knowledge 
 did the like every day ; the innocent faces of wife and 
 children at home seem to urge you, for what a differ- 
 ence would this sum of money make to their comfort 
 and welfare in the coming year ! you weighed the little 
 trick over and over again, and set it now in this light, 
 now in that, until at last the black began to seem grey, 
 and the grey almost white. After all, was it a subter- 
 fuge ? was it not merely a quite legitimate reserve, an 
 even laudable commercial prudence ? And then, as 
 
 ' It seems impossible that a general and perfect morality in 
 business can ever be attained apart from this apprehension of an 
 Omniscient Mind weighing and judging, as well as accurately observ- 
 ing, everything done even in secret. In mediaeval Europe, when this 
 faith was practically unquestioned, there was a certain honesty and 
 sincerity in handicrafts and in general dealing, until the Church made 
 the fatal blunder of granting indulgences for men's peccadilloes, and 
 professing to exonerate them from the consequences of the truth 
 which she herself in theorj^ held. 
 
xvi. ii;xi. i;xx. lo, 23-] A JUST BALANCE. 223 
 
 you wavered, some clear light of truth fell upon your 
 mind; you saw distinctly what was the right course, 
 and very quietly you took it ; the prospect of gain was 
 surrendered, you saw the advantage pass over to your 
 rival ; he availed himself of it, and went to church next 
 Sunday just the same. Sometimes you have wondered 
 whether after all you were not too scrupulous. 
 
 Now all that God knows ; it is His delight ; He has 
 recorded it already in His Book, and also in your own 
 moral nature, which is the stronger and the better for it. 
 
 On the other hand, it must be a subject of some con- 
 cern to many that the same all-observing, all-recording 
 Mind regards with hatred all the sharp practices by 
 which in business we deceive and defraud one another. 
 I suppose there is a way of making up books which 
 would pass any accountant in London, and yet would 
 not pass the audit of God. I suppose there are gains 
 which to the average commercial conscience of to-day 
 appear fair enough, and yet to the One who weighs the 
 spirits of men seem to be quite illicit. There must be 
 men who made their money long ago in certain ways 
 best known to themselves, and are now living in great 
 comfort ; but all the time in the books of God a terrible 
 record stands against them, and as the eye of God falls 
 upon those pages, the moan of the ruined, the cry of 
 the fatherless and the widow, and the horrified entreaties 
 of the helpless come up into His car. 
 
 We have no reason for thinking that the unjust 
 balance has become any less abominable to the Lord 
 because the eager and relentless competition of modern 
 industrial life has multiplied, while it has refined, the 
 methods of fraud, and has created a condition of things 
 in which, as so many people urge, questionable practices 
 
224 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 have become a .;ually necessary for one who would 
 keep his head ;^JOve water. We have no reason to 
 think that God regards it as at all essential that any 
 of us should keep his head above water. The warm 
 and honourable reception given to Lazarus in heaven, 
 when his head had gone under the waters on earth, 
 might lead us to think that what we call failures here 
 may possibly be regarded as grand successes there. 
 But we have every reason to think that double dealing, 
 no matter what may be the plea, is abominable in the 
 sight of the Lord. 
 
 It is in vain to point to the great prosperity which 
 has fallen to the lot of some whose dishonourable 
 practices have been notorious. It is beyond a doubt 
 that knavery may be successful in its way and a clever 
 rogue may outdistance an honest dullard. The proverb 
 *' Honesty is the best poHcy " is not, as some people 
 seem to think, in the Bible ; honesty may or may not 
 be the best policy, according to the object which you 
 have in view. If your object is simply to amass 
 wealth, the saying will read, " Honesty is the best 
 policy ; and where it is not, be dishonest." God does 
 not judge in the least by w^orldly prosperity. From the 
 parable just alluded to one would conclude that it is, 
 in heaven, a certain presumption against a man ; there 
 may yet prove to be truth in the hard saying, *' He 
 that dies rich is damned." If God hates these question- 
 able practices which are said to exist in modern trade, 
 and if He enters them all in His black books, they 
 who prosper by employing them are none the less 
 failures : their ruin is sure ; their remorse will be as 
 inevitable as their recovery will be impossible. 
 
 Third. I come therefore now to urge upon all of 
 
xvi. 1 1 ; xi. I ; XX. lo, 23.] A JUST BALANCE^ 225 
 
 you that you should order all your bu^y-^ess ways as in 
 the sight of God, and concern yours^jtves chiefly with 
 the thought how they may be in couibrmity with His 
 holy Will. Do not be content with estimating your 
 conduct by the judgment which other men would pass 
 upon it. While such an estimate might reveal many 
 things which would not pass muster, it is doubtful 
 whether their problematical censure will afford an 
 adequate motive for reform, and it is sure to overlook 
 many of the evils which they are bound to wink at, 
 because their own hands are not clean. Do not be 
 content even with estimating your conduct by the 
 standard of your own unaided conscience. Your con- 
 science may at any given time be in a degraded state ; 
 in order to keep it quiet you may have brought it down 
 to the level of your conduct. A thief's conscience 
 seldom troubles him unless his theft is unsuccessful, in 
 which case it reproaches him for not being more careful 
 and more skilful. You may, like St. Paul, know nothing 
 against yourself and yet not be thereby justified. For 
 doubtless most of the evil practices of our time represent 
 a conscience that has been stupified with sophistry and 
 deadened with selfishness, so that the worst culprits are 
 the first to put on an air of injured innocence, and those 
 who are least guilty suffer most just because the con- 
 science is still sensitive and has not yet been seared with 
 the usual hot iron. 
 
 No, the only safe and effectual method is to bring all 
 your business habits, all the practices of the counter 
 and the counting-house, under the searching eye of the 
 All-seeing One. Unless you realize that He sees and 
 knows, and unless you humbly submit everything to 
 His judgment, you are sure to go wrong ; your standard 
 
 15 
 
226 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 will insensibly fall, and you will insensibly fall away 
 even from the fallen standard. It is said that peculiar 
 difficulties beset you in the present day ; it is said that 
 it was never so hard to be straightforward and above- 
 board in commercial dealings ; it is said that the insane 
 Moloch of competition imperatively demands the blood 
 of our youth, and even makes assaults on the established 
 virtues of maturity. It may be so, though we are 
 generally inclined to exaggerate the peculiar temptations 
 of our own time in comparison with those of a former 
 age; but if it is so, then there is all the more urgent a 
 necessity that you should bring your affairs to God's 
 judgment, seek diligently to understand His will, and 
 then ask Him for a peculiar strength to enable you 
 to overcome these peculiar temptations. You will not 
 alter His judgment of your conduct by attempting to 
 ignore it. But by seeking to understand it, and by 
 laying your heart open to be influenced by it, you will 
 find that your conduct is perceptibly altered and ap- 
 parent impossibilities are overcome, because "by the 
 fear of the Lord men depart from evil." ^ 
 
 Prov. xvi. 6. 
 
XVII. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 " A friend lovcth at all times, and as a brother is born lor adver- 
 sity." — Pkov. xvii. 17. (This rendering, based upon the margin of the 
 R.V., yields a much better sense than the loosely connected, " And a 
 brother is born for adversity.'') 
 
 ONE of the most striking contrasts between the 
 ancient and..^he modern world is in the place 
 which is given to Friendship by moralists and religious 
 teachers. In Aristotle's famous treatise on Ethics two 
 books out of nine are devoted to the moral bearings of 
 Friendship, and these books form the climax of the work, 
 and are the natural transition to the work on PoKtics, 
 or the science of the State. This central position given 
 to the subject by the greatest and most systematic 
 teacher of antiquity, compared with the very subor- 
 dinate part which friendship plays in Christian ethics, 
 is calculated to make us reflect and enquire. Is not the 
 explanation probably this ? Our Lord gave a great new 
 commandment to His disciples, that they should love 
 one another; and though Christian men have as yet but 
 imperfectly understood what He meant, or carried out 
 what they have understood, an ideal was created which 
 far transcended that lower relationship of antiquity. 
 Greek friendship was to be merged in Christian love. 
 
228 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 The meaning of such a change will appear if we 
 remember two characteristics of mere friendship, on 
 which Aristotle dwells. One is that it is necessarily 
 based upon selfishness ; springing from a wish to realize 
 oneself in the life of another, fed by the benefit or 
 pleasure derived from the mutual intercourse, it lies 
 under the necessary limitation that we shall not wish 
 for our friend a good which would remove him from 
 us, or an improvement which would raise him too far 
 above us. For the second point is that friendship can 
 only exist between equals, and the best friendship is 
 that between good men who stand upon the same level 
 of virtue. Christian love, on the other hand, springs 
 from a complete abnegation of Self. It seeks nothing : 
 it gives all. So far from laying stress upon the equality 
 of conditions, it is never better pleased than when it 
 can raise another to a position of excellence far sur- 
 passing its own, and instead of seeking its highest 
 satisfaction in intercourse with its spiritual peers, — the 
 good, the great, the saintly, — it attains its apotheosis 
 when it is allowed to embrace the weak, the sinful, the 
 fallen, and to lavish all its Divine resources upon those 
 who may never be able to repay it even with gratitude. 
 It is obvious, then, that friendship is on a lower 
 plane than Christian love, and it marks a great advance 
 in ideal ethics when the lesser star pales in presence 
 of the greater; but it may be urged with truth that 
 friendship still has its place in life, and deserves a 
 more careful attention than it receives. In the indi- 
 vidual, as in the race, friendship may be a prelude and 
 a practice of the nobler and wider relation. And there 
 is this further reason for trying to understand the 
 nature of friendship, that it is more than once in the 
 
xvii. 17.] FRIENDSHIP. 229 
 
 Bible used as a type and a figure of the relationship 
 which may exist between the soul and its God. 
 
 We will proceed then to examine some of the cha- 
 racteristics of friendship referred to in the book of 
 Proverbs. 
 / Friends, according to the original sense of the 
 Hebrew word, are those who delight in one another's 
 companionship ; either they are useful to one another 
 because each possesses gifts which the other has not, 
 or they are agreeable to one another because they have 
 certain tastes in common. Thus there may of course 
 be a friendship in evil, in vice, in destructive practices ; 
 thieves may enter into a league to carry out their anti- 
 social designs, and may be very true to one another ; 
 vicious men may find a bond of friendship in the 
 common indulgence of their vices ; and in this way 
 friendship, so called, may be a means of ruining the 
 friends. ''There are friends for mutual shattering," 
 just as i' there is a lover that cleaves more than a 
 brother." ^ There may also be an interested comrade- 
 ship which is entirely hypocritical ; such a friendship is 
 usually marked by a loud and ostentatious demonstra- 
 tion : '' He that blesseth his friend with a loud voice, 
 rising early in the morning, it shall be counted a curse 
 to him." - But, in the main, friendship implies a certain 
 amount of goodness ; for it is in itself a virtue. The 
 suspicious, malignant nature of evil men speedily snaps 
 the ties which bind them together for a time ; and 
 where honour exists among thieves it affords a strong 
 
 • Prov. xviii. 24. This sense is obtained by what appears a neces- 
 sary change in the text; we must read ^\ for C'"'N. A similar error 
 occurs 2 Sam. xiv. 19 and Micah vi. 10. 
 
 - Prov. xxvii. 14. 
 
230 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 presumption that the thieves are the product of a wrong 
 social state, rather than of a naturally evil disposition. 
 
 We may then practically, in thinking of friendship, 
 confine our attention to that which exists between well- 
 meaning people, and tends on the whole to bless, to 
 strengthen, and to improve them. We may come to 
 look at some of the uses and the delights of friendship. 
 " As in water face answers to face, so in the heart man 
 answers to man." ^ In the heart of our friend we see 
 our own character reflected just as gazing into a still 
 pool we see the reflection of our own face. It is in 
 the frank and sympathetic intercourse of friendship 
 that we really get to know ourselves, and to realize 
 what is in us. We unfold to one another, we discover 
 our similarities and mark our differences. Points 
 which remained unobserved in our own hearts are 
 immediately detected and understood when we see 
 them also in our friends ; faculties which remained 
 unused are brought into play to supplement the dis- 
 covered defects in our friend's nature. We hardly 
 guess what a fund of happy humour is in us until we 
 are encouraged to display it by observing how its 
 flashes light up the face we love. Our capacities of 
 sympathy and tenderness remain undeveloped until we 
 wish eagerly to comfort our friend in a sudden sorrow. 
 In a true friendship we find that we are living a life 
 which is doubled in all its faculties of enjoyment and 
 of service ; ^ we quite shudder to think what cold, 
 apathetic, undeveloped creatures we should have been 
 but for that genial touch which unfolded us, and 
 
 * Prov. xxvii. 19. 
 
 ^ " Sorrows by being communicated grow less and joys greater." 
 
 — Bacon. 
 
X vi i . 1 7. ] FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 warmed our hearts into genuine feeling while it brought 
 our minds into active play. This intellectual value 
 of friendship is brought out in the happy saying : 
 *^ Iron sharpeneth iron ; so a man sharpeneth the 
 countenance of his friend." ^ A friendless person has a 
 lack-lustre face ; his talk has a dull edge ; his emotions 
 a poor and feeble flow. That delightful readiness of 
 thought and expression which makes all the charm of 
 social intercourse, the easy tact which rubs off the 
 angles and smooths all the relations of life, the bright 
 coruscations which seem like sunlight playing over 
 summer seas, are usually the result of close and 
 intimate communion with congenial friends. Reading 
 may make a learned man, and without hard study few 
 people can accomplish much permanent good in the 
 world, but reading does not necessarily make a- really 
 social man, one who brings his fellow-creatures 
 together in happy and helpful relationships ; that 
 beautiful faculty is only acquired by the fostering and 
 stimulating influences of heart companionships. When 
 we have real friends, though they be only a few, we 
 diffuse a friendly feeling amongst others, wherever we 
 go. Possibly also in the simile of the iron lies a 
 reminder of the discipline which friendship gives to 
 character, a discipline which is not always unaccom- 
 panied by pain. Friends " rub each other's angles 
 down," and sometimes the friction is a little distressing 
 to both sides. The blades are sharpened, by a few 
 imperceptible filings being ground off each of their 
 edges. The use of friendship depends very largely 
 on its frankness, just as its sweetness depends upon 
 
 Prov. xxvii. 17. 
 
232 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 mutual consideration. When the frankness hurts we 
 have to remind ourselves of the wholesome truth that 
 the soft speaking is not always a token of love, and the 
 hard sayings of our friend may be uttered at a great 
 personal cost, for our good rather than his. '' Faithful 
 are the wounds of a friend : but the kisses of an enemy 
 are profuse." ^ 
 
 ' If, however, friendship ripens through many years of 
 kindly growth, or if a swift elective affinity forestalls at 
 once the fruit of years, all the pain of mutual counsel 
 and correction disappears, and may be changed into a 
 joy very sweet to the soul. " Ointment and perfume 
 rejoice the heart : so doth the sweetness of a man's 
 friend that cometh of soul counsel."^ It is a very 
 beautiful condition of things which is referred to in 
 this proverb. Two people have learnt thoroughly to 
 understand one another, and have become in a certain 
 sense one. Each recognises the service that the other 
 renders, and welcomes the advice or even the rebuke 
 which is made possible by their relationship. The 
 interchange of affection is naturally sweet, but as sweet, 
 or even sometimes sweeter, is the delicate aroma which 
 arises when one sees a fault in the other, and with a 
 tenderness begotten of affection, and a humility which 
 trembles to presume, speaks gently but frankly to his 
 friend. Never do the eyes more eagerly respond to one 
 another, never is the hand-clasp so firm and hearty, as 
 after such a passage between true friends. 
 
 But the decisive test and the most beautiful proof of 
 real friendship will be found in the day of adversity. 
 A friend is never known till needed.^ When calamity 
 
 ' Prov. xxvii. 6. ^ Prov. xxvii. 9. 
 
 ^ "Amicus certus in re incerta cernitur." — Cicero. 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 233 
 
 falls upon us, false friends make excuses and go ; lip- 
 friends relapse into silence ; but we begin then for the 
 first time to find out who is a friend indeed. Then it 
 appears that the true friend is entirely unchanged by 
 the changed aspect of affairs ; it seems as if he had 
 been born into a brotherhood with us for this express 
 occasion. There is no wish to cry off; he seems 
 even to press the brotherly tie in a way which we 
 should not have presumed to expect, and thus he 
 contrives to lighten the oppressive burden of obligation 
 for the favour that he confers on us, by making it 
 appear that he was bound to act as he does by a 
 necessity of kinship. This seems to be the meaning 
 of our text. Such a friend, if he be near at hand and 
 in constant contact with us, is of more service than our 
 own brother ; ^ and when through his timely aid or 
 effectual comfort we have come out of the furnace, and 
 our tears are dried, we say constantly to ourselves that 
 we doubt whether our own brother would have clung to 
 us so faithfully, would have borne with our querulous 
 murmurs so patiently, or relieved our necessities so 
 delicately and so liberally."^ 
 
 If 3'ou have such a friend as this, your own or your 
 father's, take care to retain him ; do not alienate him 
 by negligence or a deficient consideration. Put your- 
 self out of the way to show that you appreciate and 
 value him ; do not allow a false reserve or a foolish 
 shyness to check your expression of gratitude. A 
 friendship is a delicate growth ; and even when it has 
 become robust, it can easily be blighted. The results 
 of years may be lost in a few days. And if a root of 
 
 ' Prov. xxvii. lo. 2 prov. xviii. 24. 
 
234 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 bitterness springs up, if a division occurs, it may be 
 quite impossible by every effort in your power to heal 
 the breach or to pluck up that obstinate root. '' A 
 brother offended is harder to be won than a strong 
 city : and such contentions are like the bars of a 
 castle."^ The closer the intimacy had been, the tenderer 
 the friendship, so much the sterner will be these bars, 
 so much the more inexpugnable the castle. For it will 
 be felt, if such protestations, such interchange of affec- 
 tion, such mutual delights, could have been. deceptive, 
 mere hypocrisies or delusions, what hope can there be 
 that the same things broken and patched up again can 
 be of any worth ? A difference with a chance acquaint- 
 ance is easily removed ; further knowledge may improve 
 our opinion of one another, and even if we separate we 
 have no deep resentment. But a difference between true 
 friends may quickly become irreparable. They feel that 
 there is no more to know ; they have seen the best and 
 that has proved disappointing. The resentment springs 
 from a sense of abused confidence and injured love. 
 
 If you have real friends then, take pains to keep 
 them. Watch carefully for the small beginnings of a 
 rupture and hasten to heal it. Think no effort is 
 wasted, and no apology or explanation is too humili- 
 ating, which may avert that great calamity, — the loss 
 of a true soul-comrade ; one whom you have learnt to 
 honour with the name and dignity of friend. 
 
 "The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried," 
 
 says our wise poet, 
 
 " Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel." 
 ' Prov.'xviii. 19. 
 
xvii. 17.] FRIENDSHIP. 235 
 
 Such a friendship as we have been considering, rare 
 and beautiful as it is, forms a noble stepping-stone to 
 the loftier relationship of Christian love. In tone and 
 quality it is almost the same ; it differs only in its 
 range and in its motive. What one man feels to 
 another in an ideal friendship, the Christian is called 
 upon, according to his capacity and opportunity, to feel 
 to man as man, to all his fellow-creatures. We cannot 
 of course fulfil all the offices of friendship to every one, 
 and we are not as Christians required to abate one 
 jot of our love to those who are our friends by affinity 
 and by choice. But where the heart is truly Christian 
 it will become more expansive, and it will be conscious 
 of the powerful claims which weakness, misery, solitude, 
 or even moral failings, make upon its friendship ; it will 
 shrink from the selfishness inherent in all affections 
 which are merely selective and exclusive ; it will 
 earnestly desire to feel an affection which is inclusive 
 and quite unselfish. Where is to be found the motive 
 for such an enlarged spirit of friendship ? Whence 
 is to come the impulse to such a self-surrender ? 
 
 Surely such a motive and such an impulse are to be 
 discovered only in that relation of friendship which 
 God Himself deigns to sustain towards the human 
 soul. Jehoshaphat in his prayer appeals to God on 
 the ground that He had given the land to " Abraham 
 His friend for ever." ^ And we read of Moses that 
 *^the Lord spake unto him face to face, as a man 
 speaketh unto his friend." '^ I But in this position of 
 one who is called the father of the faithful, and of one 
 who was the leader of his people, we cannot but 
 
 * 2 Chron. xx. 7. - Exod. xxxiii. II. 
 
236 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 recognise a promise and a foreshadowing of a relation 
 wilh God which was meant to become more general. 
 The whole tendency of the Gospel is to put every 
 believer in our Lord Jesus Christ on a spiritual level 
 with the most favoured and richly endowed of a former 
 dispensation. And since the Incarnate Son lived on 
 earth, and called the simple peasants of Galilee to be, 
 not His servants, but His friends, if they did whatsoever 
 He commanded them,^ we may without presumption — 
 nay, we must if we would not grieve Him by unbelief 
 — accept the mysteriously dignified position of God's 
 friends. The feeblest and the poorest, as well as the 
 strongest and most gifted, believing in Jesus Christ, in 
 proportion as he heartily accepts the authority and 
 obeys the commandment of his Lord, is a friend of 
 God. It is a very unequal friendship, as we must all 
 feel. He has all the strength, all the wisdom, all the 
 goodness, all the gifts ; but the sense of inequality is 
 removed by His own gracious friendhness : He attaches 
 such importance to a heartfelt love that He is willing 
 to accept that as the fair equivalent of all that He does 
 and gives to us ; and He remedies the terrible inferiority 
 of His friends by realizing His own life in them and 
 merging their imperfection in His perfectness, their 
 limitations in His infinity. 
 
 Now, shall we venture to assume that you and God 
 are friends ; that the beautiful relation which we have 
 examined, the delight in mutual companionship, the 
 interchange of thought and feeling, the quick and 
 quickening response of love and comprehension, exist 
 between you and Him ? Come and read some of these 
 
 ' John XV. 14. 
 
xvii. 17.] FRIENDSHIP. 237 
 
 sayings again and apply them to Him. You may gaze 
 into the heart of God, and as face answers to face in a 
 quiet pool, you may find yourself in Ilim, — a larger self, 
 a truer self, a holier self, than you could ever find 
 in any human fellowship, or than you had ever dared 
 to imagine. This familiar intercourse with God, which 
 has its roots in a profound reverence and its fruits 
 in an unutterable joy, is the new creation of a human 
 soul. A man will be known by his friends, and most 
 assuredly he will be known, if his Friend and most con- 
 stant Companion is God. He will regard that status as 
 his highest title and distinction, just as Lord Brooks was 
 so proud of knowing Sir Philip Sydney that he wished 
 his epitaph to be " Here lies Sir Philip Sydney's friend." 
 
 Again, in this close fellowship with God, in His 
 warnings and encouragements and chastisements, even 
 in the " faithful wounds " that He inflicts, does not the 
 heart perceive His sweetness as an ointment and per- 
 fume ? Does not the quiet place where these passages 
 of tender friendship between your soul and God occur 
 become redolent with a precious fragrance, as of in- 
 cense or of fresh flowers? 
 
 And then the deep meaning which the friendship 
 of God brings into our text, " A friend loveth at all 
 times, and as a brother " — yes, our Divine Brother, the 
 Lord Jesus Christ — "is born for adversity ;" or into that 
 other saying, " There is a lover that cleaves more than 
 a brother " ! Let us have no loud pharisaical ways in 
 blessing our Friend,' but let no effort seem too exacting 
 to retain unbroken this priceless blessing of the Divine 
 Communion ! 
 
 • Prov. xxvii. 14. 
 
238 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 Now, where the soul counts God its nearest and 
 dearest Friend, — the Friend of whom nothing in life or 
 death can rob it, — this effect follows by a beautiful 
 necessity : the chief and all-inclusive friendship being 
 secured, we are at leisure from ourselves to soothe and 
 sympathise, we are able to extend our thoughts and our 
 ministries of love to all around us, and to reflect in our 
 relations with men that exquisite relation which God 
 has deigned to establish with us. Our own private 
 friendships then produce no exclusiveness, but rather 
 they become the types of our feelings to others, and 
 the ever-springing fountainhead of friendly thoughts 
 and courteous deeds ; while these private friendships 
 and our wider relations ahke are all brought up into 
 the lofty and purifying friendship which we hold with 
 our God and He with us. 
 
XVIII. 
 
 THE EVIL OF ISOLATION. 
 
 ' He that separates himself follows after his own desire, but 
 against all sound wisdom he shows his teeth." — Prov. xviii. I. 
 
 FROM the value of friendship there is a natural 
 and easy transition to the evil of isolation. We 
 must try to fathom the profound meaning which is 
 hidden under this simple but striking proverb. To 
 begin with, what are we to understand by " one that 
 separates himself" ? This same word occurs in 2 Sam. 
 i. 23 concerning Saul and Jonathan, that "in their 
 death they were not separated." Theirs was a together- 
 ness which accompanied them to the grave. On the 
 other hand, there are people who shun all togetherness 
 in their lives, — they are voluntarily, deliberately 
 separated from their kind, and they seem for the first 
 time to blend with their fellows when their undistin- 
 guished dust mixes with the dust of others in the 
 common grave. We are to think of a person who has 
 no ties with any of his fellow-creatures, who has broken 
 such ties as bound him to them, or is of that morbid 
 and unnatural humour that makes all intercourse with 
 others distasteful. We are to think more especially of 
 one who chooses this life of solitariness in order to 
 follow out his own desire rather than from any necessity 
 
240 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 of circumstance or disposition ; one who finds his plea- 
 sure in ignoring mankind, and wishes for intercourse 
 with them only that he may vent his spleen against 
 them ; in a word, we are to think of a Misanthrope. 
 
 We must be careful in catching the precise idea, 
 because there are men who shut themselves off from 
 their kind, rightly or wrongly, in order to seek the 
 common welfare. A student or an inventor, some- 
 times even a teacher or a preacher, will find the 
 solitude of the study or the laboratory the only 
 condition on which he can accomplish the work to 
 which he is called. The loss of domestic life or of 
 social pleasures, the withdrawal from all the ^* kindly 
 ways of men," may be a positive pain to him, a cross 
 which he bears for the direct good of those whose 
 company he forswears, or for the cause of Truth, in 
 whose service alone it is possible to permanently 
 benefit his fellows. Such a *' separation " as this — 
 painful, difficult, unrewarded — we must exclude from 
 the intention of our text, although possibly our text 
 might convey a warning even to these benevolent 
 eremites, that unless the heart is kept warm by human 
 sympathies, unless the mind is kept in touch with the 
 common cares and joys of our kind, the value of even 
 intellectual work will be considerably diminished, 
 while the worker himself must inevitably and perhaps 
 needlessly suffer. But, on the whole, we must except 
 these nobler instances of isolation, if we would feel the 
 full force of the judgment which is pronounced in the 
 text. 
 
 The misanthrope is one who has no faith in his 
 fellows, and shrinks into himself to escape them ; who 
 pursues his own private ends, avoiding all unnecessary 
 
xviii. I.] THE EVIL OF ISOLATION. 241 
 
 speech with those who are around him, living alone, 
 d^'ing unobserved, except for the mischief which 
 consciously or unconsciously he does to those who 
 survive him. Such an one is aptly described as 
 showing his teeth ^ in an angry snarl against all the 
 approaches of a true wisdom. 
 
 Shakespeare might have had this proverb before him 
 in that grim delineation of Richard the Third, who 
 boasts that he has neither pity, love, nor fear. He 
 was, he had been told, born with teeth in his mouth. 
 
 "And so I was," he exclaims ; " which plainly signified 
 That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog." 
 
 And then he explains his terrible character in these 
 significant lines : — 
 
 " I have no brother, I am like no brother : 
 And this word Love, which greybeards call divine, 
 Be resident in men like one another, 
 And not in me ; / am myself alone.'' ^ 
 
 Yes, Love can only exist among men who are like 
 one another ; and no more damning indictment can 
 be brought against a human being than this, that he is 
 himself alone. 
 
 The truth is that every man is not only a ''self," 
 a personality, but he is a very complex being made 
 up of many relations with other men. He is a son, a 
 brother, a friend, a father, a citizen. Suppose him to 
 be stripped of all sonship, brotherhood, friendship, 
 fatherhood, and citizenship ; there is left, not a man^ 
 but a mere self, and that is his hideous condemnation. 
 
 * See note on V^lPiXy in Lecture XV., p. 205. 
 2 ///. King Ilenry.VL, Actv., Sc. 6. 
 
 16 
 
242 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 In the same way, a woman that is neither daughter, 
 nor sister, nor wife, nor friend, nor ministrant, does not 
 deserve the grand name of woman ; she is a mere self, 
 a point of exigent and querulous desires. The most 
 appaUing discovery in a great city is that multitudes 
 have become mere selves, — hungry, hollow, ravening, 
 thirsty, shrivelled selves. The father and mother are 
 dead, or left far away, probably never known ; no 
 one is brother to them, they are brothers to no one. 
 P>iend has no significance to their understanding, or 
 means only one who, from most interested motives, 
 ministers to their craving appetites ; they are not 
 citizens of London, nor of any other city ; they are not 
 Englishmen, though they were born in England, nor 
 have they any other nationality, — hideous, clamorous, 
 esurient selves, nothing more. An old Greek saying 
 declared that one who lives alone is either a god or 
 a wild beast ; ^ while, as we have already seen, there are 
 a few of the isolated ones who are isolated from noble 
 and even Divine motives, the vast majority are in this 
 condition because they have fallen from the level of 
 humanity into the roving and predatory state of wild 
 animals, that seek their meat by night and lurk in a 
 lonely lair by day. 
 
 The '' sound wisdom " against which the isolated 
 rage is nothing less than the kindly law which makes 
 us men, and ordains that we should not live to our- 
 selves alone, but should fulfil our noble part as members 
 one of another. The Social Instinct is one of two or 
 three striking characteristics which mark us out as 
 human : a man by himself is only an animal, and a 
 
 ' ^ debs "f) drjpLov. 
 
xviii. I.] THE EVIL OF ISOLATION. 243 
 
 very poor animal too; in size he is far beneath the 
 greatest of the creatures that inhabit land and sea ; 
 he is not as swift as the winged denizens of the air ; 
 his strength in proportion to his bulk is debility com- 
 pared with that of the tiniest insects. His distinction 
 in the creation, and his excelling dignity, are derived 
 from the social relations which make him in combination 
 strong, in the intercourse of speech and thought, wise, 
 and in the loving response of heart to heart, noble. If 
 by some unhappy accident a human being wanders 
 early from his place into the forests, is suckled by wild 
 beasts, and grows up among them, the result is an 
 animal inconceivably repulsive, fierce, cunning, and 
 ugly ; vulpine, but without the wolf's agile grace ; 
 bearish, but without the bear's slow-pacing dignity. 
 
 The " sound wisdom " is the wisdom of the Creator, 
 who from the beginning determined that it is not good 
 for men to live alone, and marked His conception of 
 the unity which should bind them together by the gift 
 of the woman to the man, to be bone of his bone and 
 flesh of his flesh. 
 
 It becomes therefore a necessity to every wise 
 human being to recognise, to maintain, and to cul- 
 tivate all those wholesome relationships which make 
 us truly human. " As a bird that wandereth from her 
 nest, so is a man that wandereth from his place." ^ 
 Sometimes when a great ship is far off in mid-ocean, 
 a tired land-bird will fall panting and exhausted 
 upon the deck: the wings can beat no longer; the 
 eyes glaze ; and the eager wanderer fails and dies. 
 The true bird-life is the life of the woods, of the 
 
 ' Prov. xxvii. 8. 
 
244 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 toilsomely- woven nest, of the mate and the brood 
 and the fledglings. In the same way on those ocean 
 steamers — ay, and in many a weary b3^e-path and 
 lonely desert of the earth — may be found men who 
 have broken away from the ties which formed their 
 strength and their truer being, and now fall, faint and 
 purposeless, to languish and to die. For true human 
 life is the Hfe of our fellows, of the diligent laborious 
 housebuilding, of the home, of the young, of the 
 rising nestlings which are to form the next link in 
 the long chain of the generations. 
 
 Neighbourliness is the larger part of life ; we are 
 not to go to our distant '' brother's house in the day 
 of our calamity, for better is a neighbour that is near 
 than a brother far off." ^ Our life is rich and true 
 and helpful just in proportion as we are entwined with 
 those who live around us in bonds of mutual respect 
 and consideration, of reciprocal helpfulness and service, 
 of intimate and intelligent friendship. 
 
 It is hardly necessary to say that there is neigh- 
 bourliness and neighbourliness. Our relation to our 
 neighbours may be that of mere busybodies, tattlers, 
 and whisperers; it may be devoid of tact and con- 
 sideration : there is need therefore of a warning to 
 "hold back thy foot from thy neighbour's house ; lest 
 he be sated with thee, and hate thee."^ But this pos- 
 sible abuse does not affect the broad and salutary 
 principle : we are meant to live in one another ; our 
 nature can reahze itself, and accomplish its mission, 
 only in generous and noble relations with those who 
 are about us. The home is at the foundation of all ; 
 
 ' Prov. xxvii. lo. - Prov. xxv.^17. 
 
xviii. I.] THE EVIL GF ISOLATION. 245 
 
 a good son or daughter will generally make a good 
 man or we^inan ; good brothers will prove good citizens, 
 good sisters good ministrants and teachers to the poor 
 and the ignorant ; good fathers will be the best rulers 
 in Church and State. The home will be the prepara- 
 tion for the larger life of the town, or the social circle, 
 or the state. And thus from the cradle to the grave 
 no man should live alone, but every one should be a 
 member of a larger body, holding a definite place in 
 a system or organism, depending on others, with others 
 depending on him. Nerves should run through the 
 body politic, motor nerves and sensory nerves ; the 
 joys and pains of a community should be shared, 
 the activities of a community should be united. No 
 one should live to himself; all should live, and rejoice 
 to live, in the great co-operative society of the world, 
 in which personal interests are mutual interests and 
 the gains of each are the gains of all. 
 
 But we can hardly probe to the depths of this 
 Proverbial Philosophy without becoming aware that 
 we are touching on an idea which is the mainspring 
 of Christianity on its earthly and visible side. We 
 seem to have detected in all the preceding discussion 
 echoes, however faint, of the Apostolic teaching which 
 gave practical shape and body to the work of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ. 
 
 The relation of Christ, as the Son of God, to the 
 human race as a whole, immediately opened up the 
 possibility of a world-wide society in which all 
 nations, all classes, all castes, all degrees, all indi- 
 vidualities, should be not so much merged as distinctly 
 articulated and recognised in a complete and complex 
 whole. The kingdom of heaven, while borrowing 
 
246 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 its terminology from earthly kingdoms, was unlike 
 any one of them because it was to include them all. 
 Into that kingdom all the peoples, nations, and lan- 
 guages should pass. 
 
 The Catholic Church, as the first attempt to reahze 
 this grand idea, presented for a time a certain faint and 
 wavering reflection of the image in the heavens. The 
 fault of seeking the unity of the race in a priesthood 
 instead of in the people was of course a fatal one to its 
 own ultimate success, but at least one great service was 
 rendered to humanity ; the idea became familiar of a 
 Unity, in which the narrower unities of the family, the 
 social circle, and the nation were to find their completion. 
 And when the intelligence and the faith of men broke 
 with the Catholic Church, it was not a breach with the 
 Catholic idea, but merely a transition to a nobler and a 
 more living realization of the idea. At present the idea 
 is daily clearing and assuming vaster proportions ; 
 humanity is seen to be one ; the Great Father presides 
 over a family which may be sundered, but cannot be 
 really parted ; over a race which is divided, but not 
 actually separated. 
 
 Strange and rapturous have been the emotions of 
 men as they have entered into the realization of this 
 idea, and the thrill of their vast fellowship has passed 
 through their hearts. Sometimes they have turned 
 away in bitterness of revolt from the Christian Church, 
 which with harsh dogmatisms and fierce anathemas, 
 with cruel exclusiveness and sectarian narrowness, 
 seems rather to check than to further the sublime 
 thought of the One Father, of whom all the family is 
 named in heaven and in earth. But whatever justifica- 
 tion there may be for complaint against the Church, 
 
xviii. 1.] THE EVIL OF ISOLATION. 247 
 
 \vc cannot afTord to turn our thoughts from the Son oi 
 Man, who has redeemed the race to which we belong, 
 and who, as the Divine Power, is alone able to carry 
 out in effect the great conception which He has given 
 us in thought. 
 
 And now I am going to ask you for a moment to 
 consider how the text reads in the light of the work 
 and the presence and the person of Jesus Christ, who 
 has come to gather together in one those that are 
 scattered abroad. 
 
 The person of Christ is the link which binds all 
 men together ; the presence of Christ is the guarantee 
 of the union; the work of Christ, which consists in 
 the removal of sin, is the main condition of a heart- 
 unity for all mankind. When therefore you put 
 your trust in Christ, and your sinful nature is sub- 
 dued, you are incorporated into a body of which 
 He is the head, and you must pass out of the 
 narrow self-life into the broad Christ-life ; you can no 
 longer live for yourself alone, because as the member 
 of a body you exist only in relation to all the other 
 members. "But," it is said, "am I not to seek my 
 own salvation, and then to work it out with fear and 
 trembling ? am I not to withdraw from the world, and 
 to labour hard to make my calling and election sure ? " 
 In a certain sense, the answer to that question is. Yes. 
 But then it is only in a certain sense ; for you make 
 sure of your own salvation precisely in proportion as 
 you are really incorporated into Christ, and are made 
 a genuine member of the body : as St. John says, " We 
 know that we are passed from death unto life because we 
 love the brethren,'^ and " if we walk in the light we have 
 fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ 
 
248 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 cleanseth us from all sin." We work out our salvation 
 therefore only by losing the self in others ; we withdraw 
 from the world and make our calling sure, just as our 
 thoughts become identified with God's thoughts, and as 
 our lives are passed in cheerful and victorious service. 
 
 If, then, on the ground of our humanity we are 
 cautioned against separating ourselves, because by so 
 doing we set our teeth against all sound wisdom, on 
 the ground of our Christianity we must be warned not 
 to separate ourselves, because that means to harden 
 our hearts against the faith itself. When we say 
 to ourselves, "We will live our Christian life alone," 
 that is equivalent to saying, " We will not Hve the 
 Christian life at all." We do not know what the 
 life in heaven may be, — though from the casual 
 glimpses we obtain of it, we should say that it is a 
 great social gathering, at which we shall sit down with 
 Abraham and all the saints of God, a kind of marriage 
 festivity to celebrate the union of the Lord with His 
 bride, — but it is plain that the Christian life, as it is 
 revealed to us here, must be the life of a community, for 
 it is likened to a vine, from which all dead branches 
 are cut off, and plainly all cut-off branches are dead. 
 
 "But," say many people amongst us, "we put our 
 faith in the Lord Jesus Christ ; we trust to Him ; why 
 should you impose any further conditions ? " Do they 
 put their faith in Him? Does not faith imply obedi- 
 ence ? Did He not require His disciples to be united 
 in a fellowship, and did He not give His body and His 
 blood as a symbol of this fellowship, and command 
 them to take the symbols in remembrance of Him until 
 He comes ? Are these isolated believers obeying Him, 
 or are they not cutting at the root of His glorious 
 
THE EVIL OF ISOLATION. 249 
 
 purpose of human fellowship in the Divine Head ? 
 And if they arc thus breaking His expressed command- 
 ment, lias He not warned them that He will say, " I 
 never knew you, depart from Me," although they have 
 taught in His name, and even cast out devils and done 
 many wonderful works ? 
 
 And in thus reminding you of our Lord's thought, 
 I am not speaking only of what we call the fellowship 
 of the Church ; for there are many who are merely 
 nominal members of the Church, and though their 
 names are enrolled they *' separate themselves " and live 
 the life of unhallowed isolation, just as they did before 
 they professedly entered into the Christian society. 
 This is a larger question than that of Church member- 
 ship ; Church membership derives its vast importance 
 from being a part of this larger question. Will you, 
 therefore, let me close with a personal appeal addressed 
 to each one of you ? 
 
 You know that the Son of Man would make men 
 one ; you know that He calls His disciples into a holy 
 family of mutual love and service, so that men may 
 know that they are His, and may recognise Him because 
 they love one another. Are you venturing to disregard 
 His commandment and to frustrate His will by separat- 
 ing yourself for your own desire ? have you fallen out 
 of all relations with His family, so that the sonship, 
 the brotherhood, the friendship, the fatherhood, the 
 citizenship, of the heavenly kingdom are as good as 
 meaningless to you ? If so, may I say in the words 
 of the text, you are setting "your teeth against all 
 sound wisdom " ? 
 
XIX. 
 
 HUMAN FREEDOM. 
 
 ** The foolishness of man subverteth his way ; 
 And his heart fretteth against the Lord." — Prov. xix. 3. 
 
 THERE is such a valuable expansion and commen- 
 tary on this proverb in the book of Ecclesiasticus 
 that it seems worth while to quote it in full : " Say not, 
 it is through the Lord that I fell away, for the things 
 He hates thou shalt not do. Say not, it is He that 
 ;:aused me to err, for He has no use for a sinful 
 man. Every abomination the Lord hates, neither is 
 it lovely to those that fear Him. He Himself at the 
 outset made Man, and left him in the power of his own 
 control, that, if thou wilt, thou shouldst keep His com- 
 mandments, and to do faithfully what is pleasing to 
 Him. He set fire and water before thee, that thou 
 shouldst stretch out thy hand to which thou wilt. In 
 front of men is life and death, and whichever a man 
 pleases shall be given to him. Because wide is the 
 wisdom of the Lord ; He is mighty in power, beholding 
 all things; and His eyes are upon them that fear Him, 
 and He Himself will take note of every work of man. 
 He never enjoined any one to do wickedly, and He 
 never gave to any one licence to sin." ^ 
 
 It is our constant tendency to claim whatever good 
 
 ' Eccles. XV. 11-20. 
 
xix.3.] HUMAN FREEDOM. 251 
 
 we do as our own doing, and to charge whatever evil 
 we do on causes which are beyond our control, — on 
 heredity, on circumstances of our birth and upbringing, 
 or even on God. The Scriptures, on the other hand, 
 regard all our good deeds as the work which God 
 works within us, when our will is given to Him, 
 while all our evil is ascribed to our own foolish and 
 corrupt \\\\\, for which we are, and shall be, held 
 responsible. This is certainly a very remarkable 
 contrast, and we shall do well to take account of 
 it. It is not necessary to run into any extreme 
 statement, to deny the effects either of taints in the 
 blood which we receive from our parents, or of early 
 surroundings and education, or even the enormous 
 influence which other people exercise over us in later 
 life ; but when all allowance is made for these recog- 
 nised facts, the contention of the text is that what really 
 subverts our lives is our own folly, — and not uncon- 
 trollable circumstances, — and our folly is due, not to 
 our misfortune, but to our fault. 
 
 Now w^e will not attempt to deal with all the modifi- 
 cations and reservations and refinements which in- 
 genuity might offer to this doctrine ; however charity 
 may require us to make allowance for others on the 
 ground of disadvantages, it is questionable whether we 
 help them, and it is certain that we weaken ourselves, 
 by turning attention constantly from the central fact to 
 the surrounding circumstances ; we will therefore try to 
 steadily look at this truth of Individual Responsibility, 
 and lay it to heart. When we have acquitted ourselves 
 of blame, and have obtained a discharge in the forum 
 of our own conscience, it will be time to seek other 
 causes of our guilt, and to '' fret against the Lord." 
 
252 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 But before we turn inwards and appeal to our own 
 consciousness, may we not observe how absurd it is that 
 the Lord should be charged with responsibility for our 
 sins ? What do we know of the Lord except that He 
 hates and abominates sin ? It is as the Hater of sin 
 that He is revealed to us in ever-clearer forms from 
 the first page of revelation to the last. But more, the 
 most powerful proof that we possess of His existence 
 is to be found in the voice of conscience within us ; 
 we instinctively identify Him with that stern monitor 
 that denounces so vigorously and unsparingly all our 
 offences against hohness. The God of revelation is 
 from the first declared to be '' He who will by no 
 means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the 
 fathers upon the children." The God of conscience is 
 by the very nature of the case identified with the un- 
 compromising sentence against evil ; is it not then 
 obviously inconsistent to lay our sins to the charge of 
 God ? We are more assured of His Holiness than of 
 His omnipotence ; we cannot therefore bring His omni- 
 potence to impeach His holiness. We see Him as the 
 Avenger of sin before we see Him in any other capacity ; 
 we cannot therefore bring any subsequent vision of 
 Him to discredit the first. It is surely the dictate of 
 plain common sense, as St. James says, that '' God 
 cannot be tempted with evil, and He Himself tempteth 
 no man : but each man is tempted, when he is drawn 
 away by his own lust, and enticed. Then the lust, 
 when it hath conceived, beareth sin : and the sin, when 
 it is full grown, bringeth forth death." ^ 
 
 Now our actual responsibility for our own sins, and 
 
 ^ James i. 13-15. 
 
HUMAN FREEDOM. 
 
 253 
 
 the troubles which result from them, will perhaps come 
 out in the clear light of conscience, if we regard our 
 conduct in the following way. We must make an 
 appeal to consciousness. There are actions which, 
 consciousness tells us, rest entirely on our own choice, 
 and concerning which no sophistry, however ingenious, 
 can furnish an adequate exculpation. There was in 
 these cases, as we well remember, the plain offer of an 
 alternative " Fire or Water, Life or Death." We knew 
 at the time that we were equally able to take either of 
 them ; we felt no compulsion ; there was, it is true, 
 a great tumult of conflicting motives, but when the 
 motives were balanced and the resulting verdict was 
 declared, we were perfectly conscious that we could, if 
 we chose, reverse the verdict and give our judgment 
 against it. Our first deviations from truth, from purity, 
 from charity, come up before us as we reflect ; the 
 struggle which went on survives vividly in memory ; 
 and when we yielded to the evil power we were con- 
 scious at the time, as we remember still, that our .will 
 was to blame. As the lie glided from the lips, as the 
 unhallowed thought was allowed to pass into act, as 
 the rein was thrown on the neck of the evil passion, 
 we knew that we were doing wrong, wx felt that by an 
 adequate exercise of the will we could do right. Cast 
 your eye back on the steps by which your character 
 was formed, on the gradual destruction of your finer 
 feelings, on the steady decline of your spiritual, in- 
 stincts, on the slow deadening and searing of your 
 moral sense. Do you not remember how deliberately 
 you submitted to the fascinations of that dangerous 
 friend, whom your conscience entirely disapproved ? 
 how wilfully you opened and perused the pages of 
 
254 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 that foul book, which swept over your soul like a mud- 
 torrent and left its slimy sediment there ever after ? 
 how you consciously avoided the influence of good people, 
 made every excuse to escape the pra3^er, the reading, 
 the sermon, which was to you a conscience-stirring 
 influence, an appeal of God to the soul ? 
 
 As you retrace those fatal steps, you will be surprised 
 to discover how entirely your own master you were at 
 the time, although the evil deeds done then have forged 
 a chain which limits your freedom now. If at any of 
 those critical moments some one had said to you. Are 
 you free to do just which of the two things you please ? 
 you would have replied at once, Why, of course I am. 
 Indeed, if there had been any compulsion to evil, you 
 would have rebelled against it and resisted it. It was 
 really the complete liberty, the sense of power, the 
 delight in following your own desire, that determined 
 your choice. The evil companion persuaded, your con- 
 science dissuaded, neither compelled ; when the balance 
 hung even you threw the weight of your will into the 
 scale. The book , lay open ; curiosity, prurience, im- 
 purity, bade you read ; your best conviction shamed you 
 and called you away : when the two forces pulled even, 
 you deliberately gave your support to the evil force. 
 The solemn voice of prayer and worship called you, 
 moving you with mystical power, waking strange 
 desires and hopes and aspirations ; the half-mocking 
 voice of the earth was also in your ear, tempting, luring, 
 exciting, and when the sounds were about balanced, 
 you raised up your own voice for the one and gave it 
 the predominance. 
 
 Or if now in the bondage of evil you can no longer 
 realize that you were once free, you can look at 
 
.] HUMAN FREEDOM. 255 
 
 Others who are now where you were then ; notice even 
 when you try to tempt your younger companions into 
 evil, how the blush of shame, the furtive glance, the 
 sudden collapse of resistance, plainly proves that the 
 action is one consciously determined by an evil choice ; 
 notice how your first blasphemies, your first devil-born 
 doubts, suggestions, and innuendoes, bring the pained 
 expression to the face, and raise a conflict which the 
 will has to decide. In this appeal to consciousness or 
 to observation we must be scrupulously honest with 
 ourselves ; we must take infinite pains not to garble 
 the evidence to suit a foregone conclusion or to excuse 
 an accomplished fall. I think we may say that when 
 men are honest with themselves, and in proportion as 
 they are pure and innocent, and not yet bound hand 
 and foot by the bondage of their .own sins, they know 
 that they have been free, that in the face of all cir- 
 cumstances they still stood uncommitted ; that if they 
 yielded to temptation it was their own '' foolishness 
 that subverted their way." 
 
 But now we may pass from these inward moral 
 decisions which have determined our character and 
 made us what we are, to the ordinary actions which 
 form the greater part of our everyday conduct. Here 
 again we are generally inclined to take credit for every 
 course which has a happy issue, and for every unfor- 
 tunate decision to cast the blame on others. We are 
 reminded, however, that our misfortunes are generally 
 the result of our own folly ; we are too impatient, too 
 hasty, too impetuous, too self-willed. " Desire without 
 knowledge is not good, and he that hasteth with his feet 
 misseth the way." ^ If we look back upon our mistakes 
 
 ' Prov. xix. 2. 
 
256 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 in life, it is surprising to see how many were due to our 
 own headstrong determination to follow our own way, 
 and our complete disregard of the prudent counsels 
 which our wiser friends ventured to offer us. " The way 
 of the foolish is right in his own eyes : but he that is wise 
 hearkeneth unto counsel." ^ " Where there is no coun- 
 sel, purposes are disappointed : but in the multitude of 
 counsellors they are established." ^ " Hear counsel," is 
 the command of this chapter, "and receive instruction, 
 that thou mayest be wise in thy latter end." ^ " Every 
 purpose is established by counsel," — affairs of state, 
 whether civil ^ or military, ^ — and so by counsel a 
 man is made strong and is able to carry out the 
 warfare of his own personal life.^ It is well for us 
 therefore not only to accept counsel which is proffered 
 to us, but to be at pains to get it, for it often lies, 
 like the waters of a well, deep down in a man's 
 mind, and requires some patience and skill in order 
 to elicit it.^ 
 
 Our false steps are due to a rash precipitancy which 
 prevents us from looking at the question on all its sides, 
 and learning the views of those who have had experience 
 and know. The calamities which befell us were foreseen 
 by many onlookers, and were even foretold by our 
 friends, but we could accept no advice, no warning. 
 And while therefore it is perfectly true that our own 
 judgment was not sufficient to ward off the evil or 
 prevent the faux pas, we are none the less to blame, 
 our own foolishness has none the less subverted our 
 
 ' Prov. xii. 15. ^ Prov. xx. 18. 
 
 * Prov. XV. 22. ^ Prov. xxiv. 5, 6. 
 ^ Prov. xix, 20. ' Prov. xx. 5. 
 
 * Prov, xi. 14. 
 
xix. 3.] HUMAN FREEDOM. 257 
 
 way, for it was our own fault that we refused to be 
 advised, it was our own incredible folly that made us 
 form so wrong an idea of our wisdom. 
 
 Suppose then that in our retrospect of life and in 
 the estimation of our errors, we mark off all those sins 
 for which our conscience duly charges us with direct 
 responsibility, and all those blunders which might have 
 been avoided if we had wisely submitted to more prudent 
 judgments than our own, what is there that remains ? 
 Can we point out any group of actions or any kind of 
 errors which are yet unaccounted for, and may possibly 
 be charged on some other person or thing than our- 
 selves ? Is there yet some opening by which we may 
 escape responsibility ? Are there any effectual and valid 
 excuses that we can successfully urge ? 
 
 Now it appears that all these possible excuses are 
 netted and completely removed — and every avenue of 
 escape is finally blocked — by this broad consideration ; 
 God is at hand as the wisest of Counsellors, and we 
 might by simple appeal to Him, and by reverently 
 obeying His commandments, avoid all the evils and the 
 dangers to which we are exposed. So far from being 
 able to excuse ourselves and to lay the blame on God, 
 it is our chief and all-inclusive fault, it is the clearest 
 mark of our foolishness, that we do not resort to Him 
 for help, but constantl}^ ollow our own devices ; that 
 we do not rely upon His goodness, but idly fret against 
 Him and all His ordinances. '' There are many devices 
 in a man's heart," but over against these feeble, fluctu- 
 ating, and inconsistent ideas of ours is " the counsel 
 of the Lord, which shall stand." ' ^' The fear of the 
 Lord tendeth to life : and he that hath it shall abide 
 * Prov. xix. 21. 
 
 17 
 
258 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 satisfied; he shall not be visited with evil."^ There 
 is a way of life, there is a plain commandment, a 
 law of God's appointing : " He that keepeth the com- 
 mandment keepeth his soul : but he that is careless 
 of his ways shall die." ^ It is simply our own care- 
 lessness that is our ruin ; if we would pay the slightest 
 heed, if there were one grain of seriousness in us, 
 we should be wise, we should get understanding, and 
 so find good in the salvation of the soul ; ^ we should 
 not, as we so often do, ^' hear instruction, only to err 
 from the words of knowledge." ^ 
 
 We may wonder at the strong conviction with which 
 this truth was urged even under the Jewish law ; it may 
 seem to us that the requirements then were so great, and 
 the details so numerous, and the revelation so uncertain, 
 that a man could scarcely be held responsible if he 
 missed the way of life through inadvertence or defective 
 knowledge. Yet even then the path was plain, and if 
 a man missed it he had but himself and his own folly 
 to blame. But how much more plain and sure is every- 
 thing made for us ! Our Lord has not only declared 
 the way, but He is the Way ; He has not only given 
 us a commandment to keep, but He has Himself kept 
 it, and offers to the believing soul the powers of an 
 inward life, by which the yoke of obedience becomes 
 easy, and the burden of service is made light. He has 
 become '' the end of the law to every one that believeth." 
 He has made His offer of Himself not only general, but 
 universal, so that no human being can say that he is 
 excluded, or murmur that he is not able to '' keep his 
 soul." His word is gone out into all the world, and 
 
 ' Prov. xix. 23. ^ Prov. xix. 16. ' Prov. xix. 8. ^ Prov. xix. 27. 
 
xix.3.] HUMAN FREEDOM. 259 
 
 while they who have not heard it, being without a law 
 are yet a law unto themselves, and are responsible by 
 virtue of that self-witness which God has given every- 
 where in Nature, in Society, and in the conscience of 
 man, how can we sufficiently emphasize our own 
 responsibility, to whom God has spoken in the latter 
 days by His own Son ! Surely '' whoso despiseth the 
 word bringeth destruction on himself." ^ 
 
 If even in that old and darker dispensation the light 
 was so clear that it was chargeable to a man's own 
 folly when he disobeyed, — and "judgments were pre- 
 pared for scorners, and stripes for the backs of fools," ^ 
 — what must come upon us who have the clearer light 
 if we wilfully and foolishly disobey? The counsel of 
 the Lord stands sure : " There is no wisdom nor under- 
 standing nor counsel against the Lord." ^ No authority 
 of wise men, no sneers of wits, no devices of the 
 clever, can in the least avail to set aside His mighty 
 ordinance or to excuse us for disregarding it. " The 
 horse is prepared against the day of battle : but victory 
 is of the Lord." ^ There can be no evasion, no escape. 
 He Himself, by His own invincible power, will bring 
 home to the hearts of the rebellious the evil of their 
 rebellion, and will send the cruel messenger against 
 them.^ 
 
 Does it not behove us to remember and to consider ? 
 to remember our offences, to consider our guilt and 
 the Lord's power ? Here is a way of life marked out 
 before you, and there is the way of death ; here is the 
 water held out to you, and there is the fire ; and you 
 
 ' Prov. xiii. 13. ^ Prov. xxi. 30. ^ Prov. xvii. II. 
 
 ^ Prov. xix. 29. * Prov, xxi. 31. 
 
26o THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 may choose. The way of life is in the Gospel of God's 
 dear Son ; you know that its precepts are perfect, 
 converting the soul, and that Christ Himself is holy, 
 such an one as the earth never bore before or since ; 
 you know too that this Holy One came to give His 
 life a ransom for many, that He invited all to come 
 unto Him, and promised to all who came everlasting 
 life. You know that He did give His life a ransom, — 
 as the Good Shepherd He gave Himself for the sheep, 
 and then took again the life which He laid down. 
 You know that He ever liveth to make intercession for 
 us, and that His saving power was not exercised for 
 the last time years and years ago, but this very day, 
 probably just at the moment that I am now speaking 
 to you. The way is plain, and the choice is free ; the 
 truth shines, and you can open your eyes to it ; the life 
 is offered, and you can accept it. What pretext can 
 you give for not choosing Christ, for not coming to 
 the truth, for not accepting the life ? 
 
 Is it not clear to you that if you refuse Him that 
 speaketh, and your way is thus subverted, — as indeed 
 it must be, — it is your own folly that is to blame ? You 
 fret against the Lord now, and you charge Him foolishly, 
 but some day you will see clearly that this is all a blind 
 and a subterfuge ; you will admit that the choice was 
 open to you, and you chose amiss ; that life and death 
 were offered to you, and you preferred death. 
 
 If any question might be entertained about those 
 who have only the light of conscience to guide them, 
 and have not heard of the direct relation of succour 
 and support which God is ready to give to those who 
 depend upon Him, there can be no doubt of the com- 
 plete freedom of every human being, who hears the 
 
xix.3.] HUMAN FREEDOM. 261 
 
 message of the Gospel, to accept it. You may put it 
 aside, you may decline to accept it on the ground of 
 disinclination, or because you consider the historical 
 evidence insufficient, but you will be the first to admit 
 that in doing so you exercise your discretion and 
 consciously choose the course which you take. 
 
 Nay, leaving all metaphysical discussion about the 
 freedom of the will, I put it to you simply. Can you 
 not, if you choose, come to Christ now ? 
 
 Oh, hear counsel and receive instruction : is not the 
 Spirit pleading with you, counseUing, teaching, warning 
 you ? Do not harden your heart, do not turn away. 
 Attend to Christ now, admit Him now, that you may 
 be wise in 3'our latter end.^ 
 
 ' Prov. xix. 20. 
 
XX. 
 
 IDLENESS. 
 
 " After the autumn gathering the slothful does not plough ; he 
 asks in the harvest, and there is nothing." — Prov. xx. 4. 
 
 WE have already in the sixth lecture caught a 
 glimpse of the sluggard, and in the ninth we 
 have seen in passing that diligence in work is enjoined 
 by the teacher ; but we must give a more concentrated 
 attention to this subject if we would reaHze the stress 
 which this book of Wisdom lays on work as the grand 
 condition of life in this earnest world. They who 
 will not work have no place in an order of things 
 which is maintained by work, and in which the toil 
 itself is the great discipline of character and the 
 preparation of joy. It is no churlish or envious spirit 
 which pronounces a doom on the idle, but it is the 
 very necessity of the case ; that idleness which in 
 moments of excessive strain we so eagerly covet is, if 
 it is accepted as the regular and continuous state of 
 the soul, a more ruinous and miserable curse than the 
 hardest labour. By a law which we all break at our 
 peril, we are required to have an honest end and a 
 strenuous occupation in our life ; and v/e are further 
 required to labour diligently for the end, and to spare 
 no pains to achieve it. We have many faculties lying 
 
XX. 4-] IDLENESS. 2G3 
 
 dormant, and we must wake them into activity ; we 
 have many gifts half used or not used at all ; wc must 
 turn them all to account, if we would be wholesome, 
 happy, and in the true sense successful. 
 
 First of all, let us look at the portrait of the sluggard 
 as it is delineated in some of these proverbial sayings. 
 We see him in bed, at the board, in the house, out of 
 doors. He will not get up in the morning ; he turns 
 from side to side, just Hke a door which swings 
 backwards and forwards on its hinges, but of course 
 never gets any further.^ " Yet a little sleep," he says, 
 " a little slumber, a little folding of the hands in 
 sleep."" Or when at last he has brought himself to 
 get up and to sit down to table, he is too lethargic 
 even to eat : " He buries his hand in the dish, and will 
 not so much as bring it to his mouth again ; " ^ or if he 
 raises the morsel to his lips, he does it with an air of 
 indescribable languor and weariness.^ Then the time 
 comes for him to go out to his daily duties. But 
 he has a number of ingenious, though utterly absurd, 
 excuses why he should not leave the house : '' There is 
 a lion in the streets," he says, ''a lion in the way ;"^ 
 '• There is a lion without ; I shall be murdered in the 
 streets."^ When he is told that this is a delusion, he 
 is prepared to argue the matter, and to show that his 
 fear is well grounded ; he is quite scornful of all the 
 people who assure him to the contrary, because they 
 have been out and seen for themselves : "The sluggard 
 is wiser in his own eyes than seven men that can 
 render a reason." ^ And when at length he is launched 
 
 ' Prov. xxvi. 14. ^ Prov. xxvi. 15. ^ Prov xxii. 13. 
 
 * Prov. xxiv. 34. * Prov. xxvi. 13. ^ Prov. xxvi. 16. 
 
 ' Prov. xix. 24. 
 
264 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 on the business of the day, arriving late, his wits gone 
 wool-grthering, his will as inactive as his mind is 
 inattentive, he drags through every duty with the air 
 of one A^ho is walking "through a hedge of thorns."^ 
 Where another person would proceed with easy 
 alacrity, he seems held back by invisible obstacles ; 
 his garments are always getting caught in the briars ; 
 there is not impetus enough to carry him over the 
 slightest difficulty ; and after frequent and somnolent 
 pauses, the end of the day finds him more weary than 
 the busiest, though he has nothing to show but futile 
 efforts and abortive results. 
 
 That is a complete picture of the sluggard. We do 
 not of course see him fully developed very often ; but 
 we recognise at once the several tendencies in our 
 own characters — the slothfulness, the Hstlessness, the 
 idle procrastination, the inertia — which may, if un- 
 resisted and unconquered, gradually bring us nearer 
 to this finished portrait. 
 
 The result of this sluggishness must now be 
 sketched. ''Love not sleep," we are told, "lest thou 
 come to poverty ; open thine eyes, and thou shalt be 
 satisfied with bread." ^ The means of subsistence in 
 this world are the result of labour ; toilers win them 
 from the reluctant earth and sea; the only condition 
 on which we can partake in them is that we should 
 toil, either directly in producing the means of sub- 
 sistence, or indirectly in doing for the producers 
 helpful service for which they are willing to exchange 
 the fruits of their labour. One who sleeps away the 
 golden hours of work, cast by slothfulness into a deep 
 
 ' Prov. XV. 19. ^ Prov. xx. 13. 
 
XX.. 4.] IDLENESS. 265 
 
 sleep, has no claim whatever on the earth or the 
 community for daily food ; he shall suffer hanger.^ 
 And if by craft or chance he is able to get his. bread 
 without any service rendered to the workers, hre shall 
 suffer from a soul-hunger more terrible than starva- 
 tion — the unutterable ennui, weariness, disgust, and 
 self-loathing which an idle and useless life inevitably 
 produces. 
 
 As the text reminds us, there is an alternation of 
 seasons. There is a time to plough, when the earth 
 has yielded her full autumn fruits ; there is a time to 
 sow ; there is a harvest. If a man is too lazy to plough 
 at the right time and to sow at the right time, his fields 
 will of course give him no crops : " Slothfulness catcheth 
 not his prey." ^ Nor must we think that God in any 
 grudging spirit has ordered this law of the seasons 
 The appetite which forces us to labour, because "our 
 mouth craves it of us," ^ the apparent rigour with 
 which nature requires us to be up betimes and not 
 to let the opportunity slip, and the threat of poverty 
 which hangs over our heads if we neglect her require- 
 ments, are all parts of a beneficent law, — the law that 
 by work itself our life is sweetened and our spirit is 
 developed. They are not to be congratulated who, 
 escaping the spur of appetite, and liberated by the 
 toil of others from the rigorous edicts of nature 
 which require the laborious ploughing and sowing, are 
 enabled to eat the bread of idleness. The hardest 
 worker, worn to the bone and ill-remunerated, is really 
 more enviable than they. The abundance of food is 
 a poor equivalent for the loss of discipline which the 
 
 ' Prov. xix. 15. - Prov. xii. 27. ' Prov. xvi. 26. 
 
266 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 desire of food was designed to exact through honest 
 and earnest work. Men come to us and say in effect, 
 *' Behold after the autumn gathering we did not plough, 
 and we asked in harvest, and got all that our hearts 
 desired," and we are constrained to pity rather than 
 to congratulate them. It is not good for men to sHp 
 through the laws of God and nature thus, for their 
 chastisement is heavier in the end than in the be- 
 ginning. 
 
 The truth of this appears when we remember that 
 a worse result of slothfulness than poverty is the 
 spiritual rust, decay, and degradation which slothful- 
 ness itself implies : '' The desire of the slothful killeth 
 him, for his hands refuse to labour ; " ^ " He also that 
 is slack in his work is brother to him that is a de- 
 stroyer." ^ It is indeed a strange illusion which makes 
 man desire idleness. Idleness is ruin ; the soul rusts 
 away like the sword in Hudibras, which — 
 
 "... ate into itself, for lack 
 Of something else to hew and hack." 
 
 It is death, it is deadly ; the idle soul slowly dies, and 
 spreads destruction around it. It is the same with a 
 country. Idleness is its ruin : whether it be that the 
 generosity of nature removes the necessity of work, as 
 in the South Seas, where the missionaries find one of 
 their chief difficulties in the absolute laziness resulting 
 from the softness of the climate and the fertiUty of the 
 soil ; or that the vast accumulations of wealth procure 
 idleness for its possessors, and enforce idleness on 
 thousands of the unfortunate unemployed, — the melan- 
 
 * Prov. xxi. 25. ^ Prov. xviii. 9. 
 
XX. 4] IDLENESS. 267 
 
 choly result ensues in the enervation of manhood and 
 the corruption of womanhood. On the other hand, as 
 Thucydides observed in the case of Attica, a rigorous 
 chmate and a niggardly soil, eliciting all the energies of 
 the people in order to improve their condition or even 
 to live, have been found favourable to the development 
 of a noble nationality. Slackness of v^ork, from what- 
 ever cause it may arise, brings its victims into this 
 sorrowful kinship with the destroyer. 
 
 It may be noted that the idle, whether they be rich 
 or poor, are denominated '' vain persons," and sensible 
 people are cautioned solemnly to avoid their society, 
 as their emptiness is contagious, and the habits which 
 are quickly acquired in their company lead straight 
 to ruin : *' He that tilleth his land shall have plenty 
 of bread, but he that foUoweth after vain persons is 
 void of understanding ; "^ " He that followeth after vain 
 persons shall have poverty enough."- 
 
 The truth which is here enforced receives ample 
 illustration in our own society. Two centuries ago 
 Daniel Defoe defined the English as the ''most lazy 
 diligent nation " in the world. Hard work is common ; 
 idleness is equally common. Our people are on the 
 whole highly gifted, and produce rapidly when they 
 give their attention to their work ; but we seem to have 
 a strange vein of dissoluteness and laziness running 
 through us, and consequently the worst and most 
 shameful idleness is often found amongst the best work- 
 men, who through their own bad habits have missed 
 their opportunities, and become a burden to themselves 
 and to the community. In no country is the leisured 
 
 ' Prov, xii. II. * Prov. xxviii. 19. 
 
268 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 class, of those who do nothing at all, or pass their 
 aimless days in a round of engagements which are 
 only strenuous idleness, so large ; in no country is the 
 unemployed or the pauper class so ruinously great 
 in proportion to the population. Hence this curious 
 paradox : the foreigner hears that England is the 
 richest and the most industrious country in the world ; 
 he comes to our shores expecting to see cities of gold 
 and fields teeming with produce. On his arrival he 
 becomes aware of a degrading poverty such as cannot 
 be matched in the poorest country on earth ; he finds 
 a vast population of the unemployed rich lounging in 
 the streets and the parks, and of the unemployed poor 
 hanging about the doors of the innumerable drink- 
 shops, and infesting every highway and byway of the 
 country. He finds the land of the agricultural districts 
 often lying idle and unproductive; those who till it 
 untaught, ill-fed, and discontented; those who possess 
 it discontented, though well fed and instructed. Our 
 subject does not lead us to inquire into the deeper 
 causes of these anomalies, but it leads us to this obser- 
 vation : we are a '' lazy diligent nation " because we 
 have not yet learned, or have forgotten, that the thing 
 most to be dreaded is not poverty, but idleness ; and 
 the thing most to be desired is not w^ealth, but strenuous, 
 earnest, and useful toil. Our desperate and eager work 
 is not for the work's sake, but in order to get rich ; 
 our ambition "is to be idle rather than to be employed, 
 to be raised above the necessity of labour which is our 
 health by the possession of wealth which is our ruin. 
 We have cherished the fatal and fooHsh error that work 
 was degrading, and have ranked those highest who 
 did the least. ** Where no oxen are," we have said in 
 
XX. 4-] IDLENESS. 269 
 
 our fastidious way, " the crib is clean," forgetting the 
 other side of the matter, that " much increase is by the 
 strength of the ox."^ Thus we have ignorantly despised 
 the workers who make us rich, looking down upon 
 trade, upon business, and more than all upon manual 
 labour; and have with strange fatuity admired most 
 those who were most useless, whose peculiar boast 
 would be that they never did a day's work in their 
 lives. 
 
 Happily now there are signs of a revolution in our 
 thought. We are beginning to see that work is good, 
 not for what it earns, but for the occupation and the 
 training which it gives to the body and the mind ; 
 and that idleness is an evil, not only where work is a 
 necessity, and the appetite craves it of us, but every- 
 where and under all circumstances. In useful employ- 
 ment we find our life ; in the sluggard's life we see our 
 death. 
 
 We must observe then the good effects which result 
 from honest and earnest toil. But, first, we cannot 
 help noticing what an important place is here given 
 to agriculture. This is not accidental to the time in 
 which the book was written. It is an eternal principle. 
 Out of the soil comes our wealth ; by the soil therefore 
 we live ; and accordingly God has ordained that in the 
 tilling of the ground man shall find his wholesomest, 
 sweetest, and most strengthening employment — that no 
 community shall inwardly flourish when its agricultural 
 life decHnes; and that therefore the happiest and 
 soundest society will be that in which the largest pro- 
 portional number are engaged in producing the fruits 
 
 ' Prov. xiv. 4. 
 
270 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 of the earth, and are directly and vitally attached to 
 their mother soil. '' He that tilleth his land shall have 
 plenty of bread." ^ When a nation is in the case of the 
 sluggard, when you pass by its fields and its vineyards 
 and see them grown over with thorns and nettles and 
 its stone walls broken down, you will find Pauperism 
 coming as a robber, and Want, gaunt and hideous, 
 stalking through the land Hke an armed man.^ '' Be 
 thou diligent," therefore we are told, " to know the 
 state of thy flocks, and look well to thy herds " — (take 
 care that no foolish pride or negligence prevent you 
 from seeing that the agricultural life is properly main- 
 tained, for it is the only sure basis of prosperity) ; 
 "-riches are not for ever, and even the government of 
 kings does not endure to all generations." But in the 
 sweet ordinances of nature the great Giver provides 
 His unfailing wealth : " The hay is carried, and imme- 
 diately the tender grass begins to grow again, and even 
 the barren mountains yield their herbs for ingathering. 
 The lambs appear every spring with their wool for 
 our clothing, and the field will maintain goats equal 
 in value to its own price. And from these miraculous 
 sources of eternal reproduction our food and our main- 
 tenance are to be drawn." ^ 
 
 Thus at the foundation of all industries is the 
 agricultural industry. At the root of all social and 
 economical questions is the land question. When you 
 wish to commend diligence and to discourage idleness 
 in a nation that is " lazy diligent," the first thing is to 
 inquire into the condition or the use of the land. The 
 land is God's gift to a people. English land is God's 
 
 ^ Prov. xxviii. 19. ^ Prov. xxiv. 30-34. ' Prov. xxvii. 23-27. 
 
XX. 4] IDLENESS. 271 
 
 gift to the English people. If it is misapplied, ill-used, 
 neglected ; if it does not produce its full tale of wealth ; 
 if it does not support its full burden of living creatures, 
 and give employment to its full number of hands, we 
 are flying in the face of God's ordinances ; we must 
 not expect to prosper ; His gracious will is frustrated, 
 and we must have the shame and sorrow of seeing 
 our million of paupers, and our second million of en- 
 forced idlers, and our myriads of lazy cumberers of the 
 ground, and our whole population disorganized and 
 unsettled, torn with the frenzy of insane work, or 
 gangrened with the corruption of destroying idleness. 
 For the gifts of God are without repentance, and the 
 abuse of His gifts is without remedy. 
 
 But turning now to the good effects which result 
 from honest and earnest toil, we are taught to distin- 
 guish three more particularly — plenty, power, and 
 personal worth. 
 
 Fi)'sf, Plenty. ''The soul of the sluggard desireth 
 and hath nothing, but the soul of the diligent shall 
 be made fat."^ Nor must we think that diligence is 
 only manual ; it is also mental. It implies thought, 
 forethought, planning, arranging. We have a con- 
 trast drawn between the really diligent man, whose 
 prudence foresees, and whose reflection orders his 
 work for the best ends, and the fussy, unreflecting 
 activity of one who is always busy, but never accom- 
 plishes anything. It is only the diligence of the first 
 kind that leads to the desired end ; the diligence of 
 mere restlessness is not much better than idleness. 
 We learn that " the thoughts of the diligent tend only 
 
 * Prov. xiii. 4. 
 
272 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 to plenteousness, but every one that is hasty hasteth 
 only to want." ^ Effectual labour implies thought ; only 
 a wise man, with all his faculties brought into full and 
 harmonious play, can work with any good result, or can 
 thriftily use the fruits of his labour ; a foolish, thought- 
 less, witless person may work hard and earn a good 
 deal of money, but it is gone even faster than it 
 came. Thus "there is precious treasure and oil in the 
 dwelling of the wise, but a foolish man swalloweth it up." ^ 
 There are exceptions, no doubt ; but the general rule 
 is borne out by experience, that they who honestly and 
 earnestly use the gifts of mind and body which God 
 has given them, obtain the things which are needful in 
 this life, if not to overflowing, yet in sufficiency ; and 
 where means fail we generally have to admit that our 
 own industry or prudence was at fault. 
 
 Then, secondly, it is industry rather than genius which 
 commends us to our fellow-men, and leads us to positions 
 of influence and power : '' Seest thou a man diligent 
 in his business ? he shall stand before kings, he shall 
 not stand before mean men ; " ^ " The hand of the dili- 
 gent shall bear rule, but the slothful shall be put under 
 task-work." '* It is this golden faculty of persistence, 
 concentration, diligence, which makes every great ruler 
 and leader of men, and raises even the very ordinary 
 person out of the drudgery of mere task- work into the 
 dignity of large and noble and delightful toil. 
 
 For, thirdly, it is diligence, the capacity of taking 
 pains, that gives to a man his actual worth, making 
 him compact and strong and serviceable : " The pre- 
 
 * Prov. xxi. 5. 3 Prov. xxii. 29. 
 
 * Prov. xxi. 20. * Prov. xii. 24. 
 
XX. 4-] IDLENESS. 273 
 
 cious substance of men is to be diligent."^ It is the 
 quality itself which is all important. The greatest gifts 
 are of little worth, unless there is this guarantee of 
 the conscientious and intelligent employment of them. 
 While if the gifts with which God has endowed us are 
 of the simplest order, if we can only use a spade or 
 a saw or a broom effectively, that faculty diligently 
 exercised is our value to the world ; and a great value 
 it is — greater than the value of high genius which is 
 erratic, unbridled, undirected, and uncertain. Of every 
 man or woman in this world the highest praise which 
 can be uttered is that which underlies the commenda- 
 tion of the good wife : " She looketh well to the ways of 
 her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness." '^ 
 There is the epitome of all trustworthy and honourable 
 character. 
 
 We have been dwelling all this time on a simple 
 virtue of a very mundane type. But all that has been 
 said may be immediately raised to a higher plane by 
 one observation. Our Lord and Master was diligent 
 about His Father's business, and has left on record 
 this saying : " I must work the works of Him that sent 
 Me while it is called to-day ; for the night cometh, in 
 which no one can work." As each one of us comes 
 under His influence and passes into His faith and 
 obedience, the joyful seriousness of our life-work 
 deepens ; it is lit by the rich glow of a sunset glory. 
 We want to do diligently what our hand finds to do — 
 to do it earnestly as unto the Lord. By patient and 
 industrious exercise of every faculty which He has 
 given us, we wish to be prepared for any task which 
 
 ' Prov. xii. 27. ^ Prov. xxxi. 27, 
 
 18 
 
274 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 He may appoint here or hereafter. Some of us He 
 only apprentices in this world ; and according to the 
 faithfulness with which we discharge our humble and 
 unnoticed duties will be the service to which He will 
 one day appoint us. Others are called out of appren- 
 ticeship into the rough and eager work of the journey- 
 man, and His eye is always upon us as He tries us to 
 find whether we may ever be appointed over one, or 
 five, or ten cities. A few supreme souls have been 
 called even on earth to shape, to create, to control ; 
 a Paul, an Augustine, a Luther, can work with an 
 emancipated hand. But the law is one all through 
 the workshops, the fields, the vineyards of our Lord. 
 The diligent shall stand before Him, and the slothful 
 shall be shamed. He that does not plough will not 
 reap. Wasted opportunities vanish for ever, and leave 
 only their doleful record in the emasculated and nerve- 
 less soul. 
 
XXI. 
 
 WINE. 
 
 " He that loveth pleasure shall be a poor man : 
 He that loveth wine and oil shall not be rich." 
 
 Prov. xxi. 17. 
 
 THE Septuagint translation has an interesting addi- 
 tion to the proverb in xii. 11. After '* He that 
 tilleth his land shall have plenty of bread, but he that 
 followeth after vain persons is void of understanding," 
 it adds, " He who is sweet in pastimes of wine-drink- 
 ing shall leave dishonour in his strongholds." Drink- 
 ing is the natural opposite of hard and honest work. 
 When the love of it takes possession of a man he is 
 sure to become a useless and unproductive member of 
 society. A drunken people are in the end an incapable 
 people ; their wealth declines, their industries pass over 
 to soberer rivals, their qualities of brain and muscle 
 gradually disappear. This is partly owing to the 
 deterioration of mind and body which results from the 
 excessive use of stimulants ; but it is still more due to 
 a wider cause : drinking in all its branches is indulged 
 in as a pleasure. Why do we not admit it ? why do 
 we always try to present it in another light, saying 
 that it is for health's sake, by a doctor's orders ; or for 
 work's sake, by a proved necessity ? Is it not that we 
 
276 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 are secretly conscious of taking the drink because we 
 like it ? We know it is a self-indulgence, and we are a 
 little ashamed of it ; and as self-indulgence is always 
 fatal in the long run to all the habits and activities 
 which men very properly honour, we should dearly 
 like to screen it under a decent pretext which might 
 preserve our self-respect. We know quite well that 
 " he that loveth pleasure shall be a poor man ; he that 
 loveth wine and oil shall not be rich." ^ Drinking is 
 after all only a pronounced symptom of a large vice — 
 self-indulgence. 
 
 A great step is taken when we have learnt to 
 quietly and candidly face this fact : we drink, as a 
 society, as a nation, — each of us drinks in public 
 or in private, — simply because it is pleasant. It is a 
 habit governed by one supreme and absolute law — we 
 like it. We know quite well that alcohol is. not a food ; 
 that is proved by the most irrefragable scientific evi- 
 "dence ; and if in alcoholic drinks there are certain 
 nutritive elements, we could if we chose secure the 
 benefit of them without any admixture of alcohol. We 
 know that in many cases the alcohol is actually 
 deleterious, that it produces specific and very terrible 
 diseases, that it lowers the tone of the whole system 
 and makes us liable to all kinds of secondary troubles. 
 We may urge that alcohol is a medicine, and a useful 
 medicine ; but it is not as a medicine we use it. If a 
 doctor prescribes castor-oil, or quinine, we throw aside 
 the medicine on the first opportunity, often before it 
 has done its work. Alcohol is the only medicine which 
 we continue to take for a lifetime because the doctor 
 
 * Prov. xxi. 17. 
 
xxi. 17.] WINE. 277 
 
 prescribed it for a month. Would it not be better 
 then to clear our minds of cant, and to set the whole 
 matter on its right basis ? Intoxicants are drunk as a 
 form, as the most universal form, of self-indulgence. 
 In some mysterious way, for some mysterious reasons 
 which we cannot fathom, they gratify an instinctive 
 appetite, they are naturally and generally attractive, 
 they exercise a spell over the physical system. If the 
 taste is, as some people say, acquired, it was acquired 
 by mankind in prehistoric times, and is part of our 
 inherited constitution as men. For instance, Mr. Gaule, 
 a police-court missionary in Birmingham, relates a 
 recent experience, one out of many in his fourteen 
 years of labour. A young married woman, twenty- 
 eight years of age, died a shocking death from drinking. 
 Up to the age of twenty-six she had been a teetotaller, 
 and did not know what the taste of drink was. She 
 was a leading member of the Gospel Temperance 
 Mission, and sang the solos at the meetings. Then she 
 was taken ill, the doctor ordered brandy, and it proved 
 like the first taste of blood to a tame tiger. She could 
 never again be kept from it, and at last it killed her. 
 The craving there must have been in the very blood. 
 
 We have a taste for these intoxicants, latent or 
 realized. The stimulating influence is pleasant, the 
 narcotic influence is pleasant. The immediate effect 
 on the body is pleasant, the immediate effect on the 
 mind is pleasant. Drink produces a sense of great 
 self-satisfaction, promotes a flow of conversation and a 
 feeling of good fellowship ; it quickens at first several 
 of our mental faculties ; it excites the imagination, and 
 carries its devotee far away from the actual, which is 
 painful and harassing, into a kind of ideal world, which 
 
278 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 is cheerful and agreeable. So powerful is its tempo- 
 rary influence that in the ''words of King Lemuel" 
 there is positively a recommendation to ''give strong 
 drink unto him that is ready to perish, and wine unto 
 the bitter in soul ; let him drink and forget his poverty, 
 and remember his misery no more."^ An injunction 
 which must not of course be mistaken for a Divine 
 precept, but only for a reminder of the fact — a fact 
 which may be observed without any moral judgment 
 being passed upon it — that while men who require all 
 their mental and moral faculties to be in full activity ^ 
 must eschew the use of intoxicating drinks, the dying, 
 the despairing, the very poor and miserable, may find 
 a certain relief in drinking. Men who are in the 
 enjoyment of health, and wish to discharge effectively 
 the day's duties, have no excuse for the employment of 
 an agent which only serves to lull the mind into for- 
 getfulness and to reduce the pain of consciousness to 
 the lowest possible point. 
 
 Strange to say, while men are thus naturally inclined 
 to use intoxicants, nature has been most lavish in 
 pandering to their tastes. There are trees in tropical 
 climates which have but to be gashed, and an intoxi- 
 cating juice flows out ready at once for use. Almost 
 every natural juice ferments if it is left alone. The 
 palm-tree, the potato-plant, the sugar-cane, beet-root, 
 the cereals, as well as the grape, yield readily these 
 intoxicating drinks, at a surprisingly low cost. Very 
 little human labour is needed, very simple apparatus 
 will suffice, so that a very few enterprising firms can 
 deluge a whole continent with fiery intoxicants. 
 
 * Prov. xxxi. 6, 7. " Prov. xxxi. 4, 5. 
 
xxi. 17.] WINE. 279 
 
 We drink because we like it, — not for our good, as 
 we pretend, but for our pleasure, as we are half ashamed 
 to confess. The taste is natural to us, — natural to 
 savages, natural to civilised men, natural, so far as 
 we know, to men of all climates and all races. And 
 nature has made it singularly easy to gratify the taste. 
 
 Now one might almost suppose that the conclusion 
 to be drawn would be, " Let us drink, let us take this 
 element as a good gift of God." And that was the feel- 
 ing of more primitive times. In the Vedas, for instance, 
 Indra is praised as reeling with the intoxicating Soma 
 which his worshippers have offered to him ; drunken- 
 ness is regarded as a kind of inspiration. But no ; 
 as wisdom asserts herself, and demands a hearing, she 
 more and more decisively classes this taste for intoxi- 
 cants with certain other tastes which are natural to 
 us, but none the less dangerous ; and she treats the 
 bountiful provision which nature has made for the 
 gratification of the taste as one of those innumerable 
 temptations with which men in this present life are 
 surrounded, — in conflict with which they prove their 
 manhood, — by victory over which they acquire strength 
 of moral principle and consistency in virtue. 
 
 As the reason within gathers power and authority, 
 and as her clear light is replenished by the revelation 
 of Divine Wisdom, all the spurious attractions of 
 drinking are weakened, the glamour is destroyed, and 
 the truth is recognised that '^ wine is a mocker, strong 
 drink a brawler, and whosoever erreth thereby is not 
 wise ; " ^ more and more it appears that the power of 
 wine is the power of the animal within us, and that the 
 
 ' Prov. XX. I. 
 
28o THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 widespread influence of it is a sign that the animal 
 within us dies slowly ; we learn to measure the growth 
 of reason by the degree of mastery which has been 
 obtained over the low appetite ; and we understand 
 that striking antithesis of the New Testament religion, 
 '' Be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess, but be 
 filled with the Spirit." 
 
 The way then in which we are brought to look at 
 the drink question is this : here is a powerful natural 
 temptation, a seduction which nature herself offers to the 
 body, a foe which always has a traitor in collusion with 
 it inside the assaulted citadel. This enemy is ingenious 
 in its argumentation : it approaches usually under the 
 guise of a friend ; it says — and not without truth — that 
 it comes to give pleasure to poor harassed and toil- 
 worn mortals ; it persuades them that it is a wholesome 
 food, and when that contention is shattered it would 
 have them believe that it is a medicine. When it has 
 gained an entrance into the fortress, by fair means or 
 foul, it at first proceeds very doucely, and seems to 
 justify its presence by numberless obvious benefits. 
 Sometimes it will successfully hide all the evil it is 
 working, as if its purpose were to beguile new victims 
 and to acquire a more unbounded sway over the old. 
 
 As religious men, as spiritual beings, whom God 
 claims to become His children, we are called upon to 
 face this subtle, powerful, and all-persuasive foe. We 
 are to do our best to understand its ways — we look to 
 science to help us and to teach us. We are then to take 
 every weapon within our reach to resist its approach, — 
 argument, persuasion, entreaty ; we are to lose no oppor- 
 tunity of unveiling the tactics of the foe, and rousing 
 those who are imperilled to a sense of their danger ; 
 
xxi. 17.] WINE. 281 
 
 then as Christian citizens we are bound to use all the 
 
 influence we possess to hold this terrible natural temp- 
 tation within the straitest limits, and to fortify all the 
 powers of resistance in our fellow-men to the highest 
 possible degree. 
 
 In such a crusade against the enemy of our race, few 
 things are more eftectual than a vivid and accurate 
 delineation of the effects which drink produces — such a 
 delineation, for instance, as that which is given in chap. 
 xxiii. 29-35. Let us proceed to examine this remarkable 
 passage. 
 
 " Whose is Oh ? whose is woe ? " asks the Teacher. 
 Who is it whose constant and appropriate language is 
 that of lamentation — the piteous cry of pain, the agonised 
 exclamation of remorse? "Whose are contentions?" 
 Who is it that lives in an atmosphere of perpetual strife 
 and loud quarrellings ? " Whose is groaning ? " — that 
 sustained sigh of desponding and irremediable misery. 
 " Whose are causeless wounds ? " — not only the bruise 
 and the gash which result from furious sparrings or un- 
 foreseen falls, but also wounds of the spirit, self-loathing, 
 and shame, the thought of what might have been, the 
 realization of a ruined home, and of suffering wife and 
 little ones, and the conviction that the evil can now 
 never be undone. " Whose is the darkling of the 
 eyes ? " ^ Who is it whose eyes have that horrible 
 inflamed, lack-lustre look, which is the exact opposite 
 
 ' The difficulty of the word n-1?/?n^ which means "dimming," is 
 that in the only other place where it occurs (Gen. xlix. 12: "His 
 eyes shall be red with wine, and his teeth white with milk") the 
 redness is evidently regarded as an advantageous attribute. But 
 perhaps the explanation is to be sought in the fact that the immediate 
 eflfect of wine upon the eye is to darken it in one gensc, and the 
 
282 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS, 
 
 of the light and clearness and sparkle proper to the 
 human eye ? 
 
 The answer to these questions is given in a sentence, 
 " Theirs who tarry over the wine, theirs who go to try 
 the mixture." It is not of course suggested that all 
 who drink wine, nor even all who take it habitually, 
 fall into the horrible condition which has just been 
 described ; this condition is the result of lingering over 
 the drink, spending hours in tippling, devoting time and 
 thought to tasting various brands and samples, becoming 
 a connoisseur of strong beverages, allowing the subject 
 to occupy an appreciable proportion of one's time. It 
 is not the use, but the abuse, of the thing which in this 
 passage is reprobated. But now we are reminded of 
 the great difficulty which occurs in distinguishing 
 between the use and the abuse. There is no sharply- 
 defined limit. There is no mechanical monitor which 
 at once reminds us, " Here use ceases and abuse begins." 
 Almost the only rule that can be given is, that whenever 
 the cup seems in the least degree attractive, then danger 
 is near and it is necessary to abstain. '' Look not on 
 wine when it reddens, when it gives its gleam in the 
 cup ; it goes down so smoothly ! " It is the peculiarity 
 of this substance that it can only be taken safely when 
 it has comparatively no attractions, when it is taken 
 under orders, and as it were against the grain. If 
 it is really pleasant to us, we can never tell where 
 the pleasantness melts into a dangerous fascination, 
 
 ultimate effect is to darken it in another. In the first moment of 
 excitement the pupil of the drinker's 63^0 dilates and flashes with a 
 darkling fire ; but it is not long before the eye becomes heavy, dim, 
 watery, and maudlin. It is in this last sense that we must understand 
 the word here. 
 
xxi. 17.] IVINE. 283 
 
 where the colour and the sparkle and the agreeable 
 tingle which make it pass so easily down the throat 
 have become the lure and the spell of a poisonous reptile. 
 For this pleasant indulgence, which seems to be perfectly 
 innocent, what is the issue of it? "Its end — like a 
 serpent it bites, and like a basilisk it stings." One evil 
 result of it is that it rouses into perilous activity the 
 dormant passions ; even pure men and women under 
 this potent influence become impure. The eyes which 
 are excited with wine will turn readily to loose and 
 degraded women. ^ The fall which might have been 
 easily avoided in a state of sobriety will be inevitable 
 when the reason is silenced, the will enfeebled, and the 
 desire inflamed by this seductive poison. 
 
 Another evil effect is that the sense of truth entirely 
 disappears. What a misleading maxim is that of the 
 Romans, In vino Veritas ! While it is a fact that the 
 intoxicated man will blab many things which were best 
 kept concealed, there is nothing which deteriorates 
 truthfulness so rapidly as the use of alcohol. The 
 drinker becomes crafty and deceitful and untrustworthy. 
 The miserable brain is haunted with chimaeras, the 
 imperious appetite suggests all kinds of subterfuges 
 and evasions, the very ''heart speaks frauds." Yes, 
 nothing could be more accurate than this : the effect 
 of drink is not so much to make the lips lie, as to make 
 the inner man essentially insincere and deceptive. No 
 man admits that he is a drunkard, even to his own 
 
 Prov. xxiii. 2)2i' T\T\\ must, as in xxii. 14, be rendered " strange 
 women " (Bertheau). The alternative rendering, "the strange, or the 
 rare " (Nowack) is logically inadmissible, because the verse is obviously 
 describing the moral eflects of drink, and no one can say that to see 
 strange or rare visions is a moral effect to be specially deprecated. 
 
284 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 heart ; long after all his friends know it, and are begin- 
 ning to despair of him, even when he has had several 
 attacks of delirium tremens and is a confirmed dipso- 
 maniac, the most he will allow is that he has sometimes 
 taken a little more than is good for him, but so very 
 little seems to upset him. Ah, " thine heart shall utter 
 fro ward things," i.e., frauds. Every one who. has had 
 any dealings with the miserable victims of drink will 
 sorrowfully confirm this statement. 
 
 The insecurity of the habit is incredible. It leads 
 to the destruction of every faculty which God has 
 mercifully given us to protect us from danger and 
 guide us through life. The ready perception of things 
 is marred, the quick rallying of the attention is delayed, 
 the exercise of the understanding is prevented, the will 
 is paralysed, the conscience dies. " Thou shalt be as he 
 who lieth down in the heart of the sea," — as one in a 
 calenture who strides into the merciless waves under 
 the impression that he is walking on flowery meadows. 
 Thou shalt be '' as he that goeth to bed on the mast's 
 head," — where the position is precarious even if the sea 
 be perfectly calm, but becomes sure destruction if the 
 winds awake and the ship begins to climb large billows 
 and to plunge down into their unquiet troughs. 
 
 And then, worst of all, when there is a temporary 
 recovery from this abominable state of drunkenness, 
 and the feeble wails of repentance begin to be heard, 
 what can be more disconnected — more futile — more 
 abject — more irrational than his words ? " They have 
 smitten me," he says; "I have not been sick," — as if 
 forsooth he were the victim of some violence offered 
 to him by others, instead of being the author of his 
 own stripes ; as if he were quite right and well, and the 
 
1 7.] WINE. 285 
 
 disease were not deep in his own passion-haunted 
 heart. " They have stricken me," he continues to 
 whine, " I have not known it." Footpads have attacked 
 him, he would have us believe, and that is the ex- 
 planation of his begrimed and blood-smeared face, his 
 torn clothes, and his empty pockets. "When shall I 
 awake ? " he mutters, as the swimming sensation in the 
 head, and the unsteady stagger in his step, remind him 
 that he is not quite himself. And then — is it possible ? 
 Yes, his next remark is, " I will seek it again." I will 
 go and get another drink. His miserable mind, the 
 victim and the mint of lies, having persuaded him that 
 all the mischief came from some cause other than him- 
 self, and had nothing to do with the one degrading 
 habit which. really produced it, he proposes at once to 
 seek the very agent which is his undoing, to heal his 
 intoxication by getting drunk again.-^ 
 
 This vivid and forcible picture of the miserable 
 sufferings, the contemptible vices, and the helpless 
 bondage which result from intoxicating drinks, is all 
 the more impressive because there is no attempt made 
 to enforce total abstinence as a principle. If however 
 it is duly considered and understood, it is very likely to 
 produce total abstinence as a practice, just as the object 
 lesson of the I " unken helot led every Spartan youth to 
 turn with unspeakable loathing from the embruting vice. 
 Modest minds, observing how the mighty are fallen, 
 
 ' " The primary discomforts of an act of drunkenness," says Dr. 
 G. W. Balfour, " are readily removed for the time by a repetition of 
 the cause. Thus what has been an act may readily become a habit, 
 all the more readily that each repetition more and more enfeebles 
 both the will and the judgment." — Art. " Drunkenness " in Eucycl. 
 Brit. 
 
286 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 how this one cause has ruined the strongest, the best, 
 and the most attractive of their fellow-creatures, in- 
 sidiously leading them on, mocking them, and luring 
 them into dangerous and poisonous marshes, will be 
 inclined to say, as Daniel said, '' I will abstain ; I may 
 be safe or I may not ; if I am safe all I gain is a certain 
 amount of animal pleasure ; if I am not, what I lose is 
 health, honour, wealth, even life itself, — not the body 
 only, but the soul too.' The gain from the use of these 
 things is very measurable and insignificant; the loss 
 from their abuse is immeasurable, and the passage 
 from use to abuse escapes at once our observation and 
 control. 
 
 But, after all, wisdom urges temperance in drinking 
 only as a part of a much larger principle. If temper- 
 ance in drinking stands alone and unconnected with 
 this larger principle, it is a blessing of a very doubtful 
 kind, so doubtful indeed that the pharisaism, the in- 
 tolerance, the dogmatism, which are able to subsist 
 with "Temperance" in the Hmited sense, have often 
 been the most serious hindrance to temperance in its 
 larger and nobler meaning. 
 
 It is the desire of pleasure which is at the root of 
 the mischief: ''He that loveth pleasure shall be a poor 
 man." Men are '' lovers of pleasure rather than lovers 
 of God."^ The appetites which are natural to us hold 
 undisputed sway, they are fleshly ; the great spiritual 
 appetites, which are supernatural, are quite feeble and 
 inoperative. Men ask for that which is pleasant, and 
 
 ^ 2 Tim. iii. 4 — (pCKrjbovoi fidWov 7) (piXodeoi, pleasure-loving rather 
 than God-loving; which means, not that men place pleasure before 
 them consciously as a substitute for God, but only that the instinctive 
 desire of pleasure has not been mastered by the love of God, 
 
xxi. 17.] WINE. 2S7 
 
 even when they become reHgious it is only to obtain 
 pleasure, a greater and a more lasting pleasure ; thus 
 there is an intemperance, which we call fanaticism, even 
 in religious beliefs and in religious practices. But 
 what men need is that the desire of God, for His own 
 sake, should be so inflamed in them as to burn up all 
 other desires. And this desire can only be created by 
 His Holy Spirit. The competing and manifold desires 
 of pleasure can only be mastered and expelled when 
 that great, absorbing, and embracing desire of God 
 has been securely settled in the human heart by the 
 Holy Spirit. True temperance is really one of the 
 ninefold fruits of the Spirit, and is of little value, a 
 mere spurious product, unless it is accompanied by 
 love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, 
 faithfulness, and meekness. Such passages as we 
 have been considering in the book of Proverbs may 
 give us a wholesome horror and hatred of drunkenness, 
 and may even lead us to a prudential temperance — 
 they may even make us as sober as pious Mohamme- 
 dans or Buddhists ; but if we are to become really 
 temperate a higher power must intervene, we must 
 be " born of the Spirit." Is it not remarkable how 
 nothing short of the highest remedy — the new birth — 
 is effectual for curing even the slightest of human 
 infirmities and sins ? 
 
XXII. 
 
 THE TREATMENT OF THE POOR. 
 
 "The rich and the needy meet together ; the Lord is the maker of 
 them all." — Prov. xxii. 2. 
 
 " He that hath a bountiful eye shall be blessed, for he giveth of his 
 bread to the poor." — Prov. xxii. 9. 
 
 " He that oppresseth the poor, it is for his increase ; he that giveth 
 to the rich, it is for want." — Prov. xxii. 16. 
 
 " Rob not the poor because he is poor, neither oppress the humble 
 in the gate, for the Lord will plead their cause and despoil of life 
 those that despoil them." — Prov. xxii. 22, 23. 
 
 IF we would understand and lay to heart the very 
 striking lessons of this book on the treatment of 
 the poor, it will be well for us to observe that there 
 are four words in the Hebrew original which are 
 rendered by our English words "poor" or "needy." 
 These words we will try to discriminate and to use 
 with more exactness in the present lecture, that we 
 may not miss any of the teaching by the blur and 
 obscurity of careless language. Ftj^st, there is a word 
 (^1) for which we will reserve our English word 
 " poor " ; it signifies a person who is weak and 
 uninfluential; but not necessarily destitute or even in 
 want. The " poor " are those who form the vast 
 majority of every society, and are sometimes described 
 by the word "masses." Secondly^ there is a word 
 (^1) which may be rendered "needy." It covers 
 
xxii. 2, 9, 16,22,23.] TREATMENT OF THE POOR. 289 
 
 those who are in actual want, people whr irough 
 bereavement, or infirmity, or unavoidable calamity are 
 unable to secure a sufficiency of the necessaries of life 
 Thirdly^ there is a word (^vl-') which we r- ty perhaps 
 render by "humble," for though it r .e literally 
 describes the afflicted and sad, it contain, within it a 
 hint of moral commendation which sugge^^ts a transi- 
 tion from the idea of simple weakness and helplessness 
 to that of patient and humble depender^ce on God. 
 Lastly, there is a word (P^??>*) which we will render 
 " destitute." If we keep these notions — " poor," 
 "needy," "humble," " destitute "—distinct, and yet 
 combined, to form one conception, we shall find that 
 the proverbs before us refer to that large section of 
 mankind who are in a worldly and material sense 
 considered the least fortunate ; those to whom it is 
 a lifelong effort merely to live ; those who have no 
 margin of security on which to fall back in case of 
 disaster or sickness ; those who are engaged in pre- 
 carious employments or in casual labour ; those who 
 may keep their heads above water by dihgence and 
 unremitting exertions, but may at any time go under ; 
 those who owing to this constant pressure of the 
 elementary needs have but little leisure to cultivate 
 their faculties, and little opportunity to maintain their 
 rights. We are to think of the large class of persons 
 who in more primitive times are slaves, who in feudal 
 times are serfs, who in modern times are called the 
 proletariate ; those in whose interest the laws of 
 society have not hitherto been framed, because they 
 have not until quite recently been admitted to any 
 substantial share in the work of legislation ; those who 
 have always found it peculiarly difficult to secure 
 
 19 
 
290 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 justice, because justice is a costly commodity, and they 
 have no means to spare, since " the destruction of the 
 poor is precisely their poverty."^ We are not to think 
 of the idle and the vicious, who are so often classed 
 with the poor, because they, like the poor, are without 
 means, — we must rigorously exclude these, for they 
 are not in the mind of the writer when he gives us 
 these golden precepts. We must remember that it is 
 part of our peculiar English system, the result of our 
 boasted Poor Law, to discredit the very word poverty, 
 by refusing to discriminate between the poor in the 
 scriptural sense, who are honourable and even noble, 
 and the pauper in the modern sense, who is almost 
 always the scum of a corrupt social order, in four cases 
 out of five a drunkard, and in the fifth case the pro- 
 duct of some one else's moral failings. It requires 
 quite an effort for us to see and realize what the 
 Scriptures mean by the poor. We have to slip away 
 from all the wretched associations of the Poor House, 
 the Poor Law, and the Guardians. We have to 
 bring before our minds a class which in a whole- 
 some state of society would be a small, numerable 
 minority, but in our own unwholesome state of society 
 are a large and well-nigh innumerable majority, — not 
 only the destitute and the actually needy, but all the 
 people who have no land on which to live, no house 
 which they can call their own, no reserve fund, no 
 possibility of a reserve fund, against the unavoidable 
 calamities and chances of life, the people who are 
 trodden down — who tread each other down — in the 
 race of competition; all those, too, who, according to 
 
 Prov. X. 15. 
 
ii. 2, 9, 16, 22, 23.] TREA TMENT OF THE POOR. 291 
 
 the godless dogma of the day, must go to the wall 
 because they are weak, and must give up the idea 
 of surviving because only the fittest must expect 
 to survive. There rise up before our imagination 
 the toiling millions of Europe — of England — worn, 
 pale, despondent, apathetic, and resigned ; or bitter, 
 desperate, and resentful ; not destitute, though they 
 include the destitute ; not needy, though they in- 
 clude the needy ; but poor, without strength except in 
 combination, and often when combined without light 
 or leading. 
 
 I. Now the first thing we have to observe is that 
 the poor^ in the sense we have tried to define, are a 
 special concern to the Lord. " Rob not the poor," 
 says the text, '' because he is poor, neither oppress 
 the humble in the gate, for the Lord will plead their 
 cause, and despoil of life those that despoil them." 
 " Remove not the ancient landmark, and enter not 
 into the fields of the fatherless ; for their Redeemer 
 is strong, He shall plead their cause against thee."^ 
 ''The Lord will establish the border of the widow."" 
 So intimate is the connection between the Lord and 
 I lis poor creatures that " he that oppresseth the poor 
 reproacheth his Maker, but he that hath mercy on the 
 destitute honoureth Him." ^ '' Whoso mocketh the 
 needy reproacheth his Maker, and he that is glad at 
 calamity shall not be unpunished." ^ On the other 
 hand, " He that hath pity on the poor lendeth unto the 
 Lord, and his good deed will He pay him again." '' 
 
 Not, of course, that there is any favouritism with 
 
 ' Prov. xxiii. 10, II. ^ Prov. xvii. 5. 
 
 ■^ Prov. XV. 25. * Prov. six. x;. 
 
 * Prov. xiv. 31. 
 
292 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 God, not that He has an interest in a man because of 
 his means or lack of means ; but just because of His 
 large and comprehensive impartiality. " The needy 
 man and the oppressor meet together ; the Lord 
 lighteneth the eyes of them both." ^ " The rich and 
 the needy meet together, the Lord is the Maker of 
 them all." ^ His special interest in the poor arises 
 only from their special need, from the mute cry which 
 goes up to Him, from the appeal to Him as their only 
 friend, dehverer, and protector : just as His lesser 
 interest in the rich arises from their self-satisfied 
 independence of Him, from their infatuated trust in 
 themselves, and from their conviction that already all 
 things belong to them. We should make a mistake 
 if we supposed that the Lord recognises any class 
 distinctions, or that He valued a man because he is 
 poor, just as we value a man because he is rich. The 
 truth rather is that He absolutely ignores the class 
 distinctions, regarding the mingled mass of human 
 beings, rich and poor, oppressor and oppressed, as 
 on a plane of dead equality, and then distinguishing 
 between them on a totally different principle, — on a 
 moral, a spiritual principle ; and, if there is any prefer- 
 ence, it is on the ground of certain valuable moral 
 effects which poverty sometimes produces that He 
 takes the poor into His peculiar and tender care, 
 honouring them with so close a friendship that service 
 to them becomes service to Him. 
 
 This is certainly good news to the masses. " You 
 are undistinguished, and unobserved," — the voice of 
 wisdom seems to say, — *' In this world, with its false 
 
 ^ Prov. xix. 13. ^ Prov. xxii. 2. 
 
xxii. 2, 9, i6, 22, 23.1 TREA TMENT OF THE POOR. 293 
 
 distinctions and perverted ideals, you feel at a con- 
 stant disadvantage. You dare hardly claim the rights 
 of your manhood and your womanhood. This great 
 personage, possessing half a city, drawing as much 
 unearned money every day as you can earn by un- 
 remitting toil in fifteen or twenty years, seems to 
 overshadow and to dwarf you. And there are these 
 multitudes of easy, comfortable, resplendent persons 
 who live in large mansions and dress in costly 
 garments, while you and your family live in a couple 
 of precarious rooms at a weekly rental, and find it all 
 you can do to get clean and decent clothes for your 
 backs. These moneyed people are held in much 
 estimation ; you, so far as you know, are held in none. 
 Their doings — births, marriages, deaths — create quite 
 a stir in the world ; you slip into the world, through it, 
 and out of it, without attracting any attention. But 
 be assured things wear a different appearance from 
 the standpoint of God. Realize how you and your 
 fellow-men appear to Him, and you at once recover 
 self-respect, and hold up your head in His presence 
 as a man. That simple truth which the Ayrshire 
 peasant sang ^ you may take as God's truth, as His 
 revelation ; it is the way in which He habitually thinks 
 of you." 
 
 How the scales seem to fall away from one's eyes 
 
 ' " What though on hamely fare we dine, 
 Wear hoddin-gre}', and a' that ; 
 Gie fools their silks and knaves their wine, 
 A man's a man for a' that. 
 For a' that and a' that, 
 
 Their tinsel show and a' that. 
 The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor, 
 Is king o' men for a' that." 
 
294 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 directly we are enabled to see men and things as God 
 sees them ! The sacred worth of humanity shines far 
 brighter than any of its tinsel trappings. We learn 
 to estimate ourselves aright, undisturbed and un- 
 abashed by the false estimates which are current in 
 the world. Our true distinction is that we are men, 
 that we belong to a race which was made in the 
 image of God, was dear to His heart, and is redeemed 
 by His love. The equality we claim for men is not 
 a levelling down — it is quite the reverse; it is raising 
 them up to the higher level which they have deserted 
 and forgotten ; it is teaching them to live as men, 
 distinguished not by their accidental circumstances or 
 possessions, but by their manhood itself. It is giving 
 men self-respect instead of self-esteem, teaching them 
 not to vaunt themselves as one against another, but 
 to claim their high and honourable title, one and all, 
 as the sons of God. 
 
 II. But now it follows that, if the Lord Himself 
 espouses the cause of the poor, and even identifies 
 Himself with them, ill-treatment of them, injustice to 
 them, or even a wilful neglect of them and disregard of 
 their interests, must be a sin, and a very terrible sin. 
 " He that despiseth his neighbour sinneth ; but he that 
 hath pity on the humble, happy is he." '^ 
 
 In the East to this day the proverb, '' He that with- 
 holdeth corn, the people shall curse him ; but blessing 
 shall be upon the head of him that selleth it," - has its 
 
 * Prov. xiv. 21. 
 
 ^ Prov. xi. 26. The following description of Persia, in the Missionary 
 Review of the World, October, 1889, p. 782, aptly illustrates the practices 
 against which the text inveighs: — "The sole end for which the Persian 
 Government exists is the collection of the revenue, the fleecing of the 
 
xxii. 2, 9, 16, 22, 23.] TREA TMENT OF THE POOR. 295 
 
 full significance. But even in the West, where the name 
 of Christ is borne by the nations, it is a common thing 
 for one or two greedy and selfish capitalists to form a 
 "corner" — as the commercial slang of the day deno- 
 minates it — in some article of industry, i.e., to secure all 
 tlie raw material in the market, and to hold it until a 
 famine price can be demanded. Meanwhile, the mills 
 are idle, the looms are silent, the workpeople are un- 
 employed, and their families suffer. Our moral sense is 
 not yet sufficiently cultivated to condemn this hideous 
 selfishness as severely as it deserves, and to regard the 
 perpetrators of it as enemies of the human race. " The 
 people curse " them, that is all. But as we have seen 
 that the cause of the wage-earners is the cause of the 
 Lord, we may rest quite confident that He to whom 
 vengeance belongs enters every action of the kind in 
 Mis unerasable accounts, and reserves the inevitable 
 punishment for these " oppressors of the poor." 
 
 people. Large portions of the land, confiscated from time to time, 
 belong to the Sovereign, and are farmed out on terms well-nigh ruinous 
 to the tenant. Even where property belongs to the subject, it is taxed 
 to the last degree as a starting-point, while the successions of sub- 
 rulers and collectors make still further drains upon the moiety that 
 must save the labourer's family from absolute want. The whole 
 burden of taxation thus comes really upon the labouring class. Added 
 to this extortion is the constant uncertainty as to whether the planter 
 will be permitted to reap his crop at all. Downright robbery of fields 
 or households by the retainers of petty chiefs is of frequent occur- 
 rence, and the poor are liable any day to be deprived of their very 
 last resource. Agriculture and other industries so discouraged and 
 paralysed barely sustain the lives of the people at the best, and when 
 drought is added thousands must perish." In times of scarcity, "The 
 king sets the example — loc/cs up his granaries^ and withholds every 
 kernel of ivheat except at famine prices. Every nabob and landowner 
 who has a stock on hand follows this example. Rapacity and cupidity 
 rule; money is coined out of the sufferings of the poor." 
 
296 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 There is another evil of modern industrial life which 
 is alluded to in the Proverbs before us. No oppres- 
 sion of the poor is more terrible than that which is 
 exercised by those who themselves are needy. The 
 system which results from necessity of this kind is 
 termed '^ sweating." The hungry contractor undertakes 
 the job at the lowest possible price, and secures his 
 profit by getting hungrier and weaker creatures than 
 himself to do the work at a price lower than possible, 
 literally at starvation wages. What force, then, to 
 modern ears is there in the saying, "A needy man that 
 oppresseth the poor is like a sweeping rain which 
 leaveth no food " ! ^ 
 
 The Divine oversight of these industrial abuses is 
 not, as we sometimes suppose, pretermitted. Wisdom 
 and Justice and Love hold the reins, and though the 
 rapacity and cupidity of men seem to have a wide 
 range, they are inevitably pulled up in the end, if 
 not in this partial and transient life, yet in that long 
 Eternity through which the Eternal will work out His 
 purposes. As He Himself sides with the poor and 
 pities them, and turns with indignation against their 
 oppressors, it follows necessarily that '' he that aug- 
 ments his substance by usury and increase gathereth 
 
 * Prov. xxviii. 3. Oddly enough the commentators, who seem 
 never to have heard of "sweating," propose to read for \y~\ either 
 T'P'i; = rich, or t^"! = t^'N") = head, for the head of the State ; an 
 example of conjectural emendation which may well make us cautious 
 of the mere scholar's method of treating the sacred text. 
 
 "The cruellest landlords, receiving lo, 20, and 30 per cent, from 
 detestable habitations (in London), are nearly connected by birth 
 and circumstance to those they oppress " {Lecture delivered at Essex 
 Hcxll, November i8th, 1889, by Thomas Locke Worthington). 
 
xxii. 2, 9, i6, 22, 23.] TREA TMENT OF THE POOR. 297 
 
 it for him that pities the poor." ^ In fact, the merciful 
 and pitiful nature has all the forces that rule the 
 universe on its side, notwithstanding appearances to the 
 contrary : " The merciful man doeth good to his own 
 soul, but he that is cruel troubleth his own flesh." ^ 
 
 It is the strange paradox of all selfishness that the 
 selfish man is really quite blind to his own true interests. 
 He most conscientiously lives for himself, and seeks 
 his own good, but the good he sought proves to be 
 his evil, and of all his innumerable foes he finds at 
 last that he himself is the worst. The selfish man is 
 always coming to want, while the unselfish man whose 
 whole thought has been for others is richly provided 
 for. *' He that giveth unto the needy shall not lack, 
 
 ' Prov. xxviii. 8. The difficult verse Proverbs xxii. 16 should find 
 a place here, "He that oppresses the poor to increase for him, he that 
 gives to the rich only for need," but it is impossible to accurately 
 dotermine its meaning. If the rendering of the English Bible is 
 correct, we may interpret the proverb as a statement of the folly of 
 oppression which leads to want as inevitably as the more obvious 
 folly of giving to the rich. But possibly Nowack is right in an inter- 
 pretation which gives quite another turn to the saying, and makes it 
 not a condemnation of the oppressor, but a suggestion of the advan- 
 tage which may be gained from the oppression by the oppressed. 
 " He who oppresses the poor — it turns to his (viz., the poor man's) 
 gain," because it calls out all his energy and endurance, " while he 
 who gives to the rich— it turns only to want," because it still further 
 ener\ates and unfits him for the duties of life. This is not very satis- 
 factory, and is decidedly far-fetched ; but it is better than Delitzsch's 
 suggestion, which strips the proverb of all moral significance, viz., 
 " He that oppresses the poor, it is at any rate for his own gain ; but 
 he who gives to the rich, it is only to get want." The conclusion from 
 this would be, that it is better to oppress the poor than to give to the 
 rich, a sentiment quite out of harmony with the ethical teaching of the 
 Proverbs. In a case like this we can only suppose that the saying 
 has reached us in a mutilated form. 
 
 '^ Prov. xi. 17. 
 
298 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 but he that hideth his eyes shall have many a curse." ^ 
 *' There is that scattereth and increaseth yet more, and 
 there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it 
 tendeth only to want."^ 
 
 ^' He that hideth his eyes shall have many a curse ! " 
 Yes, nothing is more striking than this truth, that not 
 only positive oppression of the poor, but mere indiffer- 
 ence to their state, mere neglect of their sufferings, 
 involves us in sin. There are many who can honestly 
 say that they have not deliberately wronged their fellow- 
 men, and will on that ground plead innocent ; but that 
 is not enough. We are as members one of another 
 responsible in a degree for all the injustice and cruelty 
 which are practised in the society to which we belong. 
 If we are drawing an income from invested money, we 
 are responsible for the cruel exactions of excessive 
 work, for the heartless disregard of life and limb, and 
 for the constant under-payment of the workers which 
 makes the dividends so princely.^ Nay, when we buy 
 
 ' Prov. xxviii. 27. ^ Prov, xi. 24. 
 
 ^ Can the shareholders of the G. W. R., for instance, hold themselves 
 free from responsibility in the case referred to in the following 
 paragraph from the Journal of the Peoples Palace? "The Saturday 
 Review, always trustworthy and read-worthy on subjects of law, calls 
 attention to a case which concerns a great many. It is a case in which 
 the decision is most unfortunate to the interests of all working men. 
 One Membery was employed at Paddington to shunt trunks : he was 
 taken on by a contractor, but his real emplo3'ers were the G.W.R. 
 The trucks were drawn by a horse, and the horse ought to have had 
 a boy to hitch on or off at a moment's notice : but the contractor 
 refused to supply boys. Membery in vain asked for one, pointing 
 out the great dangers to which he was exposed. He complained 
 on the very day of the accident by which he was knocked down 
 and injured seriousl3^ He sued the Company ; he won his case with 
 damages ; the Company, being a rich body, appealed. Now, con- 
 
xxii. 2, q, 1 6, 22, 23.] TREA TME.\T OF THE POOR. 299 
 
 and use the cheap goods, which are cheap because they 
 have been made at the cost of health and happiness 
 and Hfe to our brothers and our sisters, their blood is 
 upon our heads, though we choose to forget it. For 
 listen — ''Whoso stoppeth ears at the cry of the poor," 
 whoso tries to ignore that there is a labour question, 
 and that the cry for increased or even regular wages, 
 and for tolerable homes, and wholesome conditions of 
 work, is a reality, and in form of unions, or strikes, 
 or low wails of despair, is addressed to us all — " he 
 shall cry and shall not be heard." ^ Such is the in- 
 exorable law of God. And again : " Deliver those that 
 are carried away unto death," — those who are sacrificing 
 the sweetness of life, the sap of the bones, the health 
 of the marrow, to the ruthless exigencies of the indus- 
 trial machine ; " and those tottering to slaughter see 
 thou hold back," — not leaving them to " dree their own 
 sad weird," helpless and unregarded. " If thou say, 
 
 sidering the vexation, the anxiet}', and the expense of carrying on such 
 a case, a Company which appeals ought in justice to have the damages 
 doubled if it loses. The Company lost. They appealed to the Lords, 
 still on the principle of being rich and their opponent poor. This 
 time the Company won. The Lords have ruled that the Company 
 did not employ Membery, and that he was not obliged to work with- 
 out a boy : he might have refused to work at all. Indeed ! Then, 
 if he refused to work, what about the children at home ? A more 
 mischievous doctrine was never upheld. Why, there are thousands 
 and thousands of men and women who work daily under ineffectual 
 protest, — who work at trades unwholesome, for wages inefficient, and 
 for excessive hours ; yet they work because they must — because they 
 must. Membery worked without a boy, knowing that he would some 
 day be run over and perhaps killed, because he must : he had no choice. 
 When all the Trade Unions are merged into one immense Trade 
 Union, it will not be the wages alone that will be determined, but 
 the cases of such unfortunate men as Membery." 
 ' Prov. xxi. 13. 
 
300 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 Behold we knew not this man," — how could we make 
 ourselves acquainted with all the toiling masses of the 
 city by whose labour we lived and were maintained 
 in comfort ? — ^' Doth not He that weigheth the hearts 
 consider it ; and He that keepeth thy soul, doth not 
 He know it, and shall not He render to every man 
 according to his work ? " ^ That is to say, if we plead, 
 " When saw we Thee ahungred, or athirst, or sick 
 and in prison, and came not to Thee ? " our Lord will 
 say, '^ Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least ot 
 these, ye did it not to Me." And we " shall go away " 
 into everlasting punishment, while the righteous go into 
 life eternal. 
 
 III. For it follows, from the whole consideration of 
 this subject, that those who make their life a ministry 
 to the poor obtain a blessing, — yes, the only true and 
 permanent blessing that life is capable of yielding. 
 " He that hath a bountiful eye shall be blessed ; for 
 he giveth of his bread to the poor."'^ The very form 
 of the saying is significant. Does it not imply : *' It is 
 obvious that to give our bread to the poor is a blessing 
 to ourselves, so obvious that it needs only to be stated 
 to be admitted, and therefore, as the bountiful eye, 
 the philanthropic observation, the readiness to see 
 suffering and to search out the sufferers, necessarily 
 leads to this generous distribution, it must be a blessing 
 to its possessor. Indeed, this is a true test of righte- 
 ousness, as the Lord teaches in the parable just quoted. 
 It is " the righteous that takes knowledge of the cause 
 of the poor, while the wicked understands not to know 
 it."^ A rehgion which takes no knowledge of the masses 
 
 ^ Prov. xxiv. II, 12. 2 Prov. xxii. 9. * Prov. xxix. 7, 
 
xxii. 2, 9, i6, 22, 23.] TREA TMENT OF THE POOR. 301 
 
 is a false religion ; a Church and a Ministry which 
 " understand not to know" the condition of the people 
 and the needs of the poor are not Christ's Church and 
 Christ's Ministry, but flagrantly apostate; and nothing is 
 plainer than this — that from such a Church and Ministry 
 He will accept no orthodoxy of belief or valiant defence 
 of the creed in lieu of obedience to all His plain and 
 unmistakable commandments. 
 
 If we look at governments, the test is practically the 
 same. " The king that faithfully judgeth the poor, 
 his throne shall be established for ever."^ And it is 
 because the Messianic King, alone of all sovereigns 
 and governments, rightly and fully understands and 
 maintains the cause of the poor, that He alone of 
 sovereigns shall be established for ever, and of the 
 increase of His government there shall be no end. 
 And for the flagrant neglect of this vital question on 
 the part of all governing persons and assemblies, that 
 King will call to account those pompous and wordy 
 magnates who have borne the sword in vain, consider- 
 ing all interests rather than those of the poor, whom 
 they were specially appointed to judge; and of the needy, 
 to whose succour they were peculiarly bound to run. 
 
 And what holds in the state holds in the family. 
 The virtuous woman, and head of the household — 
 she whom God can approve and welcome into ever- 
 lasting habitations — is emphatically not she who is 
 always striving for social aggrandisement, always seek- 
 ing for her children wealthy settlements and spurious 
 honours ; but is one who " spreadeth out her hand to 
 
 ' Prov. xxix. 14. Has William II. of Germany been considering this 
 text? If so, it is full of promise for the prosperity of Germany and 
 of Europe? (International Labour Conference, March 1890.) 
 
302 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 the poor, yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the 
 needy." ^ 
 
 Well may we try to take God's view of this question, 
 to understand what He means by the poor, and how 
 He regards them, and how He expects us to treat 
 them. For this, if it is not the secret and the centre 
 of all true religious life, is at least the infaUible test 
 of whether our religious life is true or not. By our 
 treatment of His poor, the Son of Man, who is to judge 
 the world, declares that we shall be judged. '' By 
 that we shall be condemned or by that we shall be 
 acquitted." 
 
 ' Prov. xxxi. 30. 
 
XXIII. 
 
 EDUCATION. THE PARENTS THOUGHT OF THE 
 CHILD, 
 
 "Train up a child according to his way, and even when he is old 
 he will not depart from it."' — Prov. xxii. 6. 
 
 " Withhold not correction from the child ; if thou beat him with 
 the rod he shall not die. Thou shalt beat him with the rod and shalt 
 deliver his soul from Sheol." — Prov. xxiii. 13, 14. 
 
 IN Lecture IV. we examined two of the main prin- 
 ciples which should be inculcated on children in a 
 Christian home. In the present lecture we approach 
 the question of education again. It is necessary for us 
 to examine two features of parental training on which 
 the book of Proverbs lays repeated stress. First, the 
 need of method in bringing up the young ; and second, 
 the way of punishing their delinquencies. 
 
 In the first we have an eternal principle, which 
 applies and must apply as long as human nature 
 endures, a principle which is even emphasized by the 
 demands of our Christian faith. In the second we have 
 a principle which is so modified and altered by the 
 Christian spirit, that unless we make the largest allow- 
 ance for the change, it may be, as it often has been, mis- 
 leading and hurtful in a high degree. If we could trace 
 out all the dark cruelties and injustice, the vindictive- 
 ness, the stupidity of parents, guardians, and teachers, 
 
304 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 who have sheltered themselves under the authority of 
 the text, '' Foolishness is bound up in the heart of a 
 child, but the rod of correction shall drive it far from 
 him," ^ we might read with a new application our 
 Saviour's stern censure of accepting the letter of Scrip- 
 ture in place of coming to Him and learning of Him who 
 is meek and lowly of heart.^ 
 
 But our first duty is to understand the wholesome 
 and eternally valid teaching that is here given us about 
 education. ^' Train up a child in the way he should 
 go." We gain a good deal in vividness if we go back 
 to the meaning of the word which is rendered " train." 
 Derived from a noun which signifies the palate and the 
 inner part of the mouth, its literal meaning is " to_put 
 into the mouth." The metaphor suggested is that of 
 feeding an infant. Every parent recognises the neces- 
 sity of giving to the helpless children suitable nourish- 
 ment. At first the mother feeds the babe at the breast. 
 After the weaning she still feeds it with food carefully 
 chosen and prepared. As the child grows older she 
 changes the food, but she does not relax her care ; and 
 the father admits the responsibihty of procuring the 
 necessary diet for his little one, a responsibility which 
 does not cease until the child is fully grown, fully 
 formed, and fully able to provide for himself. Here 
 is the suitable analogy for mental, moral, and spiritual 
 teaching. The parents must feed their child with mor- 
 sels suitable to his age, with the "milk of the word" 
 at first, afterwards with strong meat. It all requires 
 infinite care and forethought and wisdom, for there is 
 a certain way of development, a certain ideal which the 
 
 ^ Prov. xxii. 15. ^ John v. 39. 
 
xxii.6;xxiii. 13, Ml EDUCATION. 305 
 
 child must realize, and if the training is to be on the 
 lines of that development, according to that *^ way," if 
 it is to achieve that ideal, the teaching must all be 
 accurately adapted to the age or stage of development, 
 and to the particular character and disposition of the 
 child. If the preliminary work of the parents is wisely 
 done, if the influence exercised by them while their 
 child is still entirely in their hands is exactly what it 
 ought to be, there is no fear for the rest of life — " when 
 he is old he will not depart from it." A great master 
 of modern literature, who wandered through many 
 ways of thought far from the opinions and faith of his 
 parents, when in his old age he sat down to write the 
 reminiscences of his life, discovered that the original 
 bent given to his mind by his peasant parents had 
 remained unexhausted to the end.^ Many beliefs cur- 
 rently held had faded and grown dim, much of the 
 historical foundation of his religion had crumbled away, 
 but there was a truth which he had learned from his 
 mother's lips and had seen exemplified in his father's 
 life, and it returned to him in its full force, and remained 
 unsubmerged in the tides of doubt, unaffected by the 
 breath of change, it even acquired a fresh hold upon 
 him in the decline of his days : — The chief end of man 
 is to glorify God and to enjoy Him for ever. 
 
 It is a good illustration of the unrivalled power of 
 the parents over a man's life. "The Lord hath given 
 the father honour over the children, and hath confirmed 
 the authority of the mother over the sons," says Eccle- 
 
 ^ "I am the eldest child, born in 1795, December 4th, and trace 
 deeply- in myself the character of both parents, also the upbringing 
 and example of both." — Carlyles Reminiscences, vol. i., p. 54. 
 
 20 
 
3c6 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 siasticus.-^ It is a rare opportunity which is given to 
 parents. No sphere of influence which they may ac- 
 quire can be like it ; it may be wider, but it can never 
 be so intense or so decisive. A father who abdicates 
 the throne on which God has set him, who foregoes the 
 honour which God has given him, or turns it into dis- 
 honour, must one day answer for his base renunciation 
 before the Eternal Father. A mother who uses the 
 authority over her sons which God has given her, 
 merely to gratify her own vanity and selfishness, and 
 to retain a love which she has ceased to deserve ; or 
 one who wantonly throws away the authority because 
 its exercise makes large demands upon the spirit, has 
 much to answer for at the Divine judgment-seat. 
 Parental powers are so absolute, parental possibilities 
 are so great, parental joys are so rare and wonderful, 
 that they must of necessity be balanced by correspond- 
 ing disadvantages in case of failure. '' He that begetteth 
 a fool doeth it to his sorrow, and the father of a fool 
 hath no joy." ^ '' A foolish son is a grief to his father, 
 and bitterness to her that bare him."" It must there- 
 fore constantly press upon all wise parents, how are 
 they to act, what methods are they to adopt, in order 
 to rightly discharge their duties, and to win that precious 
 reward of " a wise son " ? '^ " My son, if thy heart be 
 wise, my heart shall be glad, even mine, yea, my reins 
 shall rejoice when thy lips speak right things." ^' The 
 father of the righteous shall greatly rejoice, and he that 
 begetteth a wise child shall have joy of him." ^ 
 
 The answer which is constantly suggested by the 
 
 ' Eccles. XXX. 2. ^ Prov. XV. 20. Cf. x. i, xxvii. 1 1, xxix. 3. 
 
 2 Prov. xvii. 21. ^ Prov. xxiii. 15, 16, 24. 
 
xxii. 6; xxiii. 13, 14.] EDUCATION. 307 
 
 book of Proverbs, and especially by our text, is this : — 
 A successful parent will be one who makes the training 
 of the children a constant and religious study. It is 
 the last subject in the world to be left to haphazard. 
 From the first a clear aim must be kept in view. *' Is 
 my great object that this boy shall be a true, a noble, a 
 God-fearing man, serving his day and generation in the 
 way God shall appoint ? Is this object purged of all 
 meaner thought ? Can I renounce the idea of worldly 
 success for him, and be indifferent to wealth and 
 reputation, to comfort and ease for him ? " When 
 this question is satisfactorily settled, then comes a 
 second, How is the aim to be realized ? Is not the 
 parent at once driven to God with the cry, ''Who is 
 sufficient for these things ? " A mistake may be so 
 fatal, and it is so hard to clearly see, to rightly judge, 
 to firmly act, that nothing can avail but the direct 
 teaching, inspiration, and power of the Spirit of God. 
 Happy are the father and the mother who have been 
 forced in their helplessness to seek that Divine help 
 from the very first ! 
 
 If we only knew it, all educatioQ is useless apart 
 from the Spirit of God. "Where the Spirit of the 
 Lord is, there is liberty." And liberty is just what 
 is most needed. Mechanical schemes, cut-and-dried 
 precepts, are quite insufficient. Moving in the liberty 
 of the Spirit you have insight and adaptiveness ; at 
 once you perceive that each child is a separate study, 
 and must be approached in a different way. One is 
 sanguine and over-confident, and he must constantly 
 be humbled ; another is diffident and desponding, and 
 must be encouraged with the bright word of sympathy, 
 spoken at the right moment. " I see it all, my child ; 
 
3o8 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 I know what a fight it is in which you are engaged." ^ 
 One is a born sceptic, and would know the reason 
 why ; he must be met with patient and comprehending 
 arguments according to his mental powers. Another 
 has no speculative instincts, and questions have to be 
 raised, doubts suggested, in order to save him from drift- 
 ing into the easy-going acceptance of everything which 
 he is told. One seems naturally inclined to be religious, 
 and must be carefully watched lest the sensitiveness 
 should become morbid, and a dominant thought should 
 lead to mania, melancholy, or a possible reaction. 
 Another seems to have no rehgious instinct, and the 
 opportunity must be sought for awaking the sense of 
 need, rousing the conscience, opening the eyes to God. 
 But again, in proportion as parents are led by the 
 Spirit, and make their sacred charge a matter of con- 
 stant and beseeching prayer, they will in their own 
 person and conduct represent God to the children, and 
 so supplement all the possible defects of the express 
 training and disciphne. If the command " Be thou in 
 the fear of the Lord all the day long " ^ is to have any 
 weight with a child, he must live with those who them- 
 selves are in the fear of the Lord all the day long. 
 A man must live near to God if he is to make God 
 real to his children. A mother must hold very real 
 converse with her Lord if His reality is to become 
 obvious to her little ones. **As a child," says one,^ 
 *' I always had a feeling that God and Jesus were such 
 particular friends of mamma's, and were honoured 
 
 * See that invaluable little book, " The Education of a Christian 
 Home," edited by Ella S. Armitage. 
 ^ Prov. xxiii. 17. 
 ' "The Educsition of a Christian Hpme." 
 
xxii. 6;xxiii. 13, I4-] EDUCATION. 309 
 
 more than words could tell." If such an impression 
 is to be created, depend upon it God and Jesus must 
 be particular friends of yours. No talk, however pious, 
 can create that impression unless the hallowed friend- 
 ship actually exists. 
 
 Again, led by the Spirit, we are filled with Divine 
 love ; and no training of children can have any valuable 
 or permanent effect which does not issue from, which 
 is not guided by, and does not result in, love. For love 
 is the Divine educator. It is this which accounts for 
 the frequently observed anomaly that children who 
 seem to have inferior home advantages and very inade- 
 quate education turn out better than others for whom 
 no labour or expense or care seems to be grudged. 
 If love is not there, all the efforts will fail. Love 
 is the only atmosphere in which the spirits of little 
 children can grow. Without it the wisest precepts 
 only choke, and the best-prepared knowledge proves 
 innutritious. It must be a large love, a wise love, an 
 inclusive love, such as God alone can shed abroad in 
 the heart. Love of that kind is very frequently found 
 in " huts where poor men lie," and consequently the 
 children issuing out of them have been better trained 
 than those whose parents have handed them over to 
 loveless tutors or underlings. 
 
 And this may perhaps fitly lead us to consider the 
 other point which is before us — the prominence which 
 is, in the Proverbs, given to chastisement. *' He that 
 spareth his rod hateth his son, but he that loveth him, 
 chasteneth him betimes."^ "Chasten thy son, seeing 
 there is hope, and set not thy heart on his destruction." 
 
 ' Prov. xiii. 24. ^ Pro v. xix. 18. 
 
310 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 " Stripes that wound are a cleansing of evil, strokes of 
 the recesses of the belly." ^ " Withhold not correction 
 from the child ; when thou beatest him with a rod he 
 shall not die. Thou shalt beat him with the rod, and 
 shalt deliver his soul from Sheol."^ "The rod and 
 reproof give wisdom, but a child left to himself causeth 
 shame to his mother." ^ " Correct thy son and he shall 
 give thee rest, yea, he shall give delight unto thy soul." ^ 
 
 Corporal punishment seems to the Christian, and 
 to the common sense of a society which is the product 
 of the Christian spirit, degrading, brutalising, and 
 essentially futile ! It can only have even a modicum of 
 good effect where it is inflicted by a loving hand, and 
 in a loving spirit, without a trace of temper or cruelty, 
 and obviously costing more to inflict than to bear. 
 But even with all these conditions granted it is a most 
 unsatisfactory method of punishment ; it arouses vin- 
 dictive feelings and savage passions. A whipped boy 
 is almost sure to bully the next creature w^eaker than 
 himself that he encounters ; and acting only as a deter- 
 rent, it never reaches the conscience, or creates a sense 
 of revolt from the sin for the sin's sake, which is the 
 object of all wise, or at least of all paternal, punishment. 
 We can only, therefore, set aside the precept to use 
 the rod as one which was in harmony with darker and 
 harder times before the Saviour of the world had 
 come to reveal the inner life and to teach us how 
 we are to deal with those mysterious and wonderful 
 beings, our fellow-creatures. 
 
 But with this modification, and substituting "wise 
 and merciful punishments" for "rod and stripes," 
 
 ' Prov. XX. 30. 3 Prov. xxix. 15. 
 
 - Prov. xxiii. 13, 14. * Prov. xxix. 17. 
 
xxii.6;xxiii. 13, 14] EDUCATION. 311 
 
 these teachings remain of permanent validity. Our 
 Heavenly Father chastens His children ; by most 
 gracious punishments He brings home to them the 
 sense of sin, and leads them to repentance and amend- 
 ment.^ And earthly parents, in proportion as they are 
 led by the Spirit and filled with love, will correct their 
 children, not for their own pleasure, but for their chil- 
 dren's good. The truth which underlies these apparently 
 harsh injunctions is this: Love inflicts punishments, nor 
 are any punishments so severe as those which Love 
 inflicts ; and only the punishments which Love inflicts 
 are able to reform and to save the character of the 
 delinquent. 
 
 We all of us know that weak and sentimental nature 
 — too common among modern parents — which shrinks 
 from inflicting pain under all circumstances. Seizing 
 on the ill-understood doctrine that Love is the sovereign 
 power in life and in education, it pleads in the name of 
 Love that the offender may be spared, that he may 
 escape the due penalty of his fault. That is not a love 
 like God's love : and if you are careful to observe, it 
 has not the remedial or saving effect which the love of 
 God has. " He that declines to punish his child hates 
 him; he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes." In 
 the poor child's heart so much foolishness is bound 
 up, so much wilfulness and temper, so much vanity 
 and pride, so much sensuality and selfishness, so much 
 unwholesome craving for amusement, it is so natural 
 to the child to make pleasure the be-all and the end-all 
 of life, that, if all this foolishness is to be driven away, 
 
 * Lev. xxvi. 41 : " If then their uncircumcised heart be humbled, 
 and they then accept of the punishment of their iniquity, then will I 
 remember My covenant with Jacob." 
 
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 there must be much sharp discipHne and painful cor- 
 rection. The Divine method of punishment seems to 
 be to let men eat of the fruit of their doings until they 
 loathe it. They rebelliously call out for meat in the 
 wilderness, and it turns into a satiety, a bitterness, and 
 a plague, while it is between their teeth. Is it possible 
 that parents too, under the guidance of the Spirit, may 
 chasten their children in the same way, bringing home 
 to the wilful the painful effects of wilfulness, to the vain 
 the ridiculous effects of vanity, to the selfish the dis- 
 astrous issue of selfishness, to the sensual the ruin and 
 the misery of sensuality ? Might not the most effectual 
 punishment for every fault be an enforced quiet in 
 which the culprit is confronted with the inevitable out- 
 come of the sin ? Does not even the hardest heart 
 begin to melt, does not the dullest conscience begin to 
 grow sensitive, when the sure results of evil are aptly 
 pourtrayed before the mind ? What pride would have 
 courage to grow if it had a glimpse of the hard, dry, 
 loveless, unloved, heart which is its inevitable fruit ? 
 What young man would venture to take the first 
 downward steps in impurity if he had ever formed a 
 conception of the devastation of brain and heart and 
 life which must ensue ? 
 
 The rod cannot open the eyes ; it can but set the 
 cunning intellect to work to find a way of enjoying the 
 sin and escaping the rod. But the opening of the eyes 
 — at which all true punishment must aim — reveals a 
 rod which is bound up with the sin, sure as the sin 
 itself. It is the parents' solemn task — and many an 
 inward sorrow must it cost — to bring home to his 
 child's heart these truths of experience which the child 
 cannot at present know. Wise penalties and " reproof 
 
i.6;xxiii. 13, m] EDUCATION. 313 
 
 give wisdom, but a child left to himself causeth shame 
 to his mother." ^ 
 
 There is a voice, the voice of Divine Wisdom, which 
 speaks continually to every parent, to every teacher of 
 youth: "Incline thine ear," it says, '^and hear the 
 words of the wise, and apply thy heart unto my know- 
 ledge" — without attention and application this heavenly 
 wisdom cannot be known. "Ft)r it is a pleasant thing," 
 so the voice continues, " if thou keep these words 
 within thee, if they be estabhshed together upon thy 
 lips. That thy trust may be in the Lord," — without 
 whom the best-meant efforts will fail, — " I have made 
 them known to thee this day, even to thee. Have not 
 I written to thee excellent things of counsels and 
 knowledge, to make thee know the certainty of the 
 words of truth, that thou mayest carry back words of 
 truth to them," those helpless and ignorant children 
 whose needs " send thee " to me for instruction ? '^ 
 
 The failures are numerous, disastrous, heart-breaking, 
 but they are unnecessary. Your children are holy ; 
 they belong to the Saviour in whom you yourselves 
 believe. Grasp that truth ; go to Him in sublime faith. 
 " Lord, it is not with Thee to save a part, to choose this 
 one and save that. Thou wilt glorify Thyself in every 
 one." ^ Surrender yourself to Him that He may use 
 you to exhibit His Divine graces and saving love to 
 the children. Live with Him daily, that the glory of 
 the communion may not pass away from your face, or 
 appear only by fits and starts — and so train up your 
 child according to his way ; and when he is old he will 
 not depart from it. 
 
 ' Prov. xxix, 15. •^ Prov. xxiii. 17-21. 
 
 ' "The Education of a Christian Home." 
 
XXIV. 
 
 FORGIVING. 
 
 "Be not a witness against thy neighbour without cause, and deceive 
 not with thy lips. Say not, I will do so to him as he hath done to 
 me ; I will render to the man according to his work." — Prov. xxiv. 
 28, 29. 
 
 " Rejoice not when thine enemy falleth, and let not thy heart be 
 glad when he is overthrown, lest the Lord see it and it displease Him, 
 and He turn away His wrath from him." — Prov. xxiv. 17, 18. 
 
 "He that is glad at calamity shall not be unpunished." — Prov. 
 xvii. 5. 
 
 "If thine enemy be hungry, give him bread to eat, and if he be 
 thirsty give him water to drink ; for thou shalt heap coals of fire upon 
 his head, and the Lord shall reward thee." — Prov. xxv. 21, 22. 
 
 THERE is no subject on which the teaching of the 
 Proverbs more strikingly anticipates the morahty 
 of the New Testament than that of forgiveness to our 
 enemies. Our Lord Jesus Christ could take some of 
 these sayings and incorporate them unchanged into 
 the law of His kingdom, for indeed it is not possible 
 to surpass the power and beauty and truth of the 
 command to feed those who have injured us if they are 
 hungry, to give them drink when they are thirsty, and 
 in this Divine way to kindle in them repentance for the 
 injury which they have done. This is the high-water 
 mark of moral excellence. No better state can be 
 desired. When a human spirit is habitually in this 
 
FORGIVING. 
 
 tender and forgiving mood, it is already united with the 
 Father of spirits, and Hves. 
 
 It is ahiiost superfluous to point out that even the 
 saints of the Old Testament fall very far short of the 
 lofty standard which is here set before us. The 
 Psalmist, for example, is thinking of coals of a quite 
 different sort when he exclaims : " As for the head of 
 those that compass me about, let the mischief of their 
 own lips cover them. Let burning coals fall upon them ; 
 let them be cast into the fire ; into deep pits that they 
 rise not up again." ^ That is the old elemental hate of 
 human nature, the passionate, indignant appeal to a 
 righteous God against those who have been guilty of a 
 wrong or an injury. Even Jeremiah, one of the latest, 
 and certainly not the least holy, of the prophets could 
 cry out concerning his enemies : " Yet, Lord, Thou 
 knowest all their counsel against me to slay me ; forgive 
 not their iniquity, neither blot out their sin from Thy 
 sight ; but let them be overthrown before Thee ; deal 
 Thou with them in the time of Thine anger." ^ Words 
 painfully natural, words echoed by many a persecuted 
 man of God, but yet quite inconsistent with the teaching 
 of the Saviour in the Sermon on the Mount, the teach- 
 ing already foreshadowed in this beautiful proverb. 
 
 But it may not be superfluous to notice that the 
 Proverbs themselves, even those which stand at the 
 head of this chapter, do not all touch the high-water 
 mark of xxv. 21. Thus, for example, the motive which 
 is suggested in xxiv. 18 for not rejoicing in the fall of 
 an enemy is none of the highest. The idea seems to 
 be, if you see your enemy undergoing punishment, if 
 
 ' P^ajm cxl. 9, 10. * Jer. xviii. 23. 
 
3i6 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 calamity is falling upon him from the Lord, then do not 
 indulge in any insolent exultation, lest the Lord should 
 be offended with you, and, in order to chastise your malig- 
 nity, should cease to plague and trouble him. In such a 
 view of the question, God is still regarded as a Nemesis 
 that will resent any unseemly rejoicing in the calamity 
 of another ; ^ in proportion therefore as you wish to see 
 your enemy punished, you must abstain from that joy 
 in his punishment which would lead to its diminution. 
 From a precept of that kind there is a vast moral 
 stride to the simple prohibition of retaliation, announced 
 without any reason given or suggested in xxiv. 29 — 
 " Say not, I will do so to him as he hath done to me, 
 I will render to the man according to his work." And 
 from this again there is an incalculable stride to the 
 positive spirit of love, which, not content with simply 
 abstaining from vindictiveness, actually turns the tables, 
 and repays good for evil, looking with quiet assurance 
 to the Lord, and the Lord alone, for recognition and 
 reward. Our wonder is occasioned not because all the 
 Proverbs do not reach the moral altitude of this one, but 
 rather that this one should be so high. When an ideal 
 is set up far in advance of the general practice and even 
 of the general thoughts of the time, we can ascribe it 
 only to the promptings of the Holy Spirit. 
 
 It needs no proof that forgiveness is better than 
 revenge. We all know that — 
 
 " Revenge, at first though sweet, 
 Bitter ere long back on itself recoils."^ 
 
 We all know that the immediate effect of forgiving our 
 
 ^ Prov. xvii. 56. ^ Paradise Lost, ix., 171. 
 
FORGIVING. 317 
 
 enemy is a sweet flow of tenderness in the soul, which 
 surpasses in delight all the imagined joys of vindic- 
 tiveness ; and that the next effect is to soften and win 
 the foe himself; the scornful look relents, the tears of 
 passion give place to those of penitence, the moved heart 
 is eager to make amends. We all know that nothing 
 more powerfully affects our fellow-men than the exhibi- 
 tion of this placable temper.^ We all know that in 
 forgiving we share God's prerogative, and come into 
 harmony with His Spirit. 
 
 Yet here is the melancholy fact that notwithstanding 
 this proverbial truth, taken up into the teaching of our 
 Saviour, and echoed in the writings of His Apostles,^ 
 even in a Christian society, forgiveness is almost as 
 rare as it was in the days of King Solomon. Men 
 are not ashamed — even professing Christians are not 
 ashamed — to say about their enemies, '' I will do so 
 to him as he has done to me, I will render to the man 
 according to his work." We even have a lurking ad- 
 miration for such retaliatory conduct, calling it spirited, 
 and we still are inclined to contemn one who acts on 
 the Christly principle as weak or visionary. Still the 
 old bad delight in seeing evil fall on the head of our 
 enemies glows in our hearts ; still the act of vengeance 
 is performed, the bitter retort is given, the abusive 
 letter is written, with the old sense of unhallowed pride 
 and triumph. How is this ? Ah, the simple truth is 
 
 ' Burke said of Pitt after his fall, that the manner in which he 
 made his own justification, without impeaching the conduct of his 
 colleagues or taking anj' measure that might seem to arise from dis- 
 gust or opposition, set a seal upon his character. (Lecky, " England 
 in the Eighteenth Century," vol. iii ,61.) 
 
 ^ See Rom. xii. 20. 
 
3i8 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 that it is a small matter to get right principles recog- 
 nised, the whole difficulty lies in getting them practised. 
 We need a power which can successfully contend 
 against the storm of passion and self-will, in those 
 terrible moments when all the calm lights of reason 
 are quenched by the blinding surf of passion, and all 
 the gentle voices of goodness are drowned by its 
 roaring waves. 
 
 Sometimes we hear it said that the moral teaching 
 of Christ is not original, but that all His precepts may 
 be found in the words and writings of ancient sages, 
 just as His teaching about forgiveness is anticipated 
 by the proverb. Yes, but His claim does not rest 
 upon His teaching, but upon the Divine and super- 
 natural power which He has at His command to carry 
 out His doctrines in the conduct of His disciples. 
 This is the point which we must realize if this sweet 
 and beautiful ideal is to be worked out in our lives. 
 We have but touched the fringe of the question when 
 we have conned His words, or shaped conceptions of 
 what a life would be passed in conformity to them. 
 The centre of Christian doctrine is power^ the power 
 of Christ, the fountain of living waters opened in the 
 heart, the grafting of the withering branches upon 
 a living stock, the indwelling of Christ Himself, as 
 the spring and principle of every holy action, and the 
 effectual restraint on all our ungovernable passions. 
 
 But before looking more closely at this, we ought to 
 pay some attention to the constant motive which our 
 Lord, even in His teaching, presents for the practice of 
 a forgiving disposition. He always bases the duty of 
 forgiveness on the need which we have of God's for- 
 giveness ; He teaches us to pray, " Forgive us our 
 
xxiv.] FORGIVING. 319 
 
 trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against 
 us ; " and in the moving story of the unmerciful servant, 
 who demanded the full payment from his fellow-servant 
 just when his lord had pitifully remitted his own debt, 
 He tells us that forgiveness of our enemies is an indis- 
 pensable condition of our being forgiven by God. " His 
 lord was wroth, and delivered him to the tormentors, 
 till he should pay all that was due. So shall also My 
 Heavenly Father do unto you, if ye forgive not every 
 one his brother from your hearts."^ It is not therefore 
 only, as it is sometimes stated, that we ought to be 
 moved to pity by remembering what God has done for 
 us. No, there is a much sterner thought in our Lord's 
 mind ; it is that if we do not forgive we shall not and 
 cannot be forgiven. The forgiving spirit manifested to 
 our fellow-men is that without which it is vain for us 
 to come near and to ask God for pardon. If we have 
 come, and are just about to offer our prayer, and if we 
 then remember that we have aught against a brother, 
 we must go first and be reconciled to him, before our 
 prayer can be so much as heard. 
 
 Here is certainly a motive of a very powerful kind. 
 Which of us would dare to cherish the bitter thought, 
 or proceed with our plan of vengeance, if we remem- 
 bered and realized that our vindictiveness would make 
 our own pardon at the hands of God impossible ? 
 Which of the countless deeds of retaliation that stain 
 with blood the pages of history would have been 
 perpetrated, and which of the perpetrators would not 
 have tremblingly relinquished all thought of reprisals, 
 if they had seen that in those savage acts of vengeance 
 
 Matt. 
 
320 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 they were not, as they supposed, executing lawful 
 justice, but actually cutting off their own hope of pardon 
 before the throne of God ? 
 
 If we avenge ourselves, if society is constantly torn 
 by the quarrels and the mutual recriminations of hostile 
 men whose one thought is to give as good as they 
 have got, it can only be because we do not believe, or 
 do not realize, this solemn teaching of the Lord. He 
 seems a faint and doubtful voice compared with the 
 loud tumult of passion within ; His authority seems 
 weak and ineffectual compared with the mighty domi- 
 nation of the evil disposition. Powerful, therefore, as 
 the motive is to which He constantly appeals, if He 
 had left us nothing but His teaching on the subject 
 we should not be materially better off than they who 
 listened with attention to the teaching of the wise 
 authors of these ancient Proverbs. What more has 
 He left us ? 
 
 It is His prerogative to give to those who believe in 
 Him a changed heart. How much is meant by that, 
 which only the changed heart can know ! Outwardly 
 we seem much ahke ; outwardly there is little sign of 
 an inward transformation ; but far as the east is from 
 the west is the unregenerate heart from the regenerate, 
 the Christless heart from one which He has taken in 
 His hands, and by His great redemption created anew. 
 Now without stopping to follow the processes of faith 
 by which this mighty change is effected, let us simply 
 mark the characteristics of the change so far as it 
 affects the matter in hand. 
 
 The first and most radical result of the New Birth is 
 that God takes the place which Self has occupied. All 
 the thoughts which have clustered about your own 
 
xxiv. ; xvii. ; xxv.] FORGIVING. 321 
 
 being now turn to His Being, as stray fragments of 
 iron turn to the magnet. Consequently, all the emotions 
 and passions which are stimulated by self-love give 
 place to those which are stimulated by the love of 
 God. It is as if the pipes of your aqueduct had been 
 changed at the fountain head, disconnected from the 
 malarious waters of the marsh, and connected with the 
 pure and sparkling water of the hills. God's ways of 
 regarding men, God's feelings towards men, His yearn- 
 ing over them. His pity for them, flow into the changed 
 heart, and so preoccupy it that resentment, hatred, 
 and malice are washed out like the sour dregs in a 
 cup which is rinsed in a running stream. 
 
 There is the man who did you the wrong — very 
 cruel and unpardonable it was ! — but, as all personal 
 elements are quite out of the question, you regard him 
 just as if you were not the injured being. You see 
 him only as God sees him ; you trace all the malignant 
 workings of his mind ; you know how the fire of his 
 hate is a fire which burns the heart that entertains 
 it. You see clearly how tormenting those revenge- 
 ful passions are, how the poor soul mastered by them 
 is diseased, how the very action in which it is triumph- 
 ing now must become one day a source of bitter regret 
 and implacable self-reproach ; you soon begin to regard 
 the ill deed as a shocking wound inflicted on the doer 
 of it, and the wells of pity are opened. As if this 
 enemy of yours had been quite innocent of all ill-will, 
 and had been overtaken by some terrible calamity, 
 your one instinctive thought is to help him and relieve 
 him. Out of the fulness of your heart, without any 
 sense of being magnanimous, or any thought of a 
 further end,— simply for tlie,flity~C)f it, — you come to 
 
 /■:'^^' ''■'"-. '^ 21 
 
 3t' 
 
322 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 proffer him bread in his hunger and water in his 
 thirst. 
 
 Yes, it is in the atmosphere of pity that personal 
 resentment dies away, and it is only by the power of 
 the Son of Man that the heart can be filled with a pity 
 large enough to pardon all the sins of our kind. 
 
 It is this thought — though without any definite state- 
 ment of the means by which it is produced — that finds 
 expression in Whittier's touching lines : — 
 
 " My heart was heavy, for its trust had been 
 Abused, its kindness answered with foul wrong ; 
 So turning gloomily from my fellow-men, 
 One summer Sabbath day I strolled among 
 The green mounds of the village burying-place ; 
 Where pondering how all human love and hate 
 Find one sad level ; and how, soon or late, 
 Wronged and wrongdoer, each with meekened face, 
 And cold hands folded over a still heart. 
 Pass the green threshold of a common grave, 
 Whither all footsteps tend, whence none depart. 
 Awed for myself, and pitying my race. 
 Our common sorrow, like a mighty wave. 
 Swept all my pride away, and, trembling, I forgave." 
 
 Yes, one who is touched by the spirit of the Son of 
 Man finds too much to pity in the great sorrowing 
 world, and in its fleeting and uncertain life, to cherish 
 vengeful feelings. Himself redeemed by the untold 
 love of His Father, by the undeserved and freely 
 offered pardon in Christ Jesus his Lord, he can feel for 
 his enemies nothing but forbearance and love ; if they 
 too are Christians, he longs to win them back to the 
 peace and joy from which their evil passion must have 
 driven them ; and if they are not, his eyes must fill 
 with tears as he remembers how brief is their apparent 
 triumph, how unsubstantial their gleam of joy. The 
 
xxiv.; xvii.; XXV.] FORGIVING. 323 
 
 desire to save them immediately masters the transitory 
 wish to punish them. The pity of men, for the sake of 
 the Son of Man, wins the day. 
 
 And now we may just glance at the effect which the 
 Christly conduct has upon the offender, and the reward 
 which God has attached to its exercise. 
 
 It is one of the most beautiful traces of God's likeness 
 in even bad men, a characteristic to which there is 
 no parallel in the animal creation, that though passion 
 awakes passion, wrath wrath, and vengeance revenge 
 — so that savages pass their whole time in an unbroken 
 series of blood feuds, the hideous retaliation bandied from 
 tribe to tribe and from man to man, generation after 
 generation — the spirit of meekness, proceeding not from 
 cowardice, but from love, disarms passion, soothes wrath, 
 and changes vengeance into reconciliation. The gleam 
 of forgiveness in the eye of the injured is so obviously the 
 light of God that the wrongdoer is cowed and softened 
 before it. It kindles a fire in his spirit, his heart melts, 
 his uplifted hand falls, his angry voice grows tender. 
 When men are so dehumanised as to be insensible to 
 this softening effect, when they interpret the gentleness 
 as weakness, and are moved by the forgiving spirit 
 simply to further injury and more shameless wrong, 
 then we may know that they are possessed, — they are 
 no longer men, — they are passing into the category of 
 the lost spirits, whom the forbearance of God Himself 
 leads not to repentance but only to added sin. 
 
 But if you have ever by the sweet spirit of Christ 
 so mastered your natural impulse as to return good 
 for evil lovingly and whole-heartedly, and if you have 
 seen the regenerating effect in the beautiful subjugation 
 of your foe and his transformation into a friend, it is 
 
324 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 not necessary to say much of the reward which God 
 has in store for you. Do you not already possess it ? 
 
 Yet the reward is certainly greater than you are 
 able at once to apprehend. For what a secret is this 
 which you possess, the secret of turning even the 
 malignity of foes into the sweetest affection, the secret 
 which lay in the heart of God as the spring and the 
 means of man's redemption.-^ The highest reward that 
 God can give to His creatures is to make them par- 
 takers of His nature as He has made them in His own 
 image. When we share in a Divine attribute we enter 
 so far into the Divine bliss ; and in proportion as this 
 attribute seems removed from our common human 
 nature, our spirit must exult to find that it has been 
 really appropriated. What further reward, then, can 
 he who avenges not himself desire ? The pulse of the 
 Divine heart beats in him ; the tides of the Divine life 
 flow through him. He is like God — God who opposes 
 to man's ingratitude the ocean of His pardoning love ; 
 he is conscious of that which is the fountain of joy in 
 the Divine Being ; surely a man must be satisfied when 
 he awakes in God's likeness ! And that satisfaction 
 comes to every one who has heaped coals of fire on his 
 enemy's head by feeding him in his hunger, and giving 
 him water when athirst. Say not, *'I will do so to 
 him as he has done to me, I will render to the man 
 according to his work." Love your enemies ; pray for 
 them which despitefully use you. 
 
 ^ Cf. the proverb, " When a man's ways please the Lord He 
 maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him " (Prov. xvi. 7). 
 
XXV. 
 
 THE KING. 
 
 " It is the glory of God to conceal a thing, but the glory of kings is to 
 
 search out a matter. 
 The heaven for height and the earth for depth, and the heart of 
 
 ki)tgs is unsearchable. 
 Take away the dross from the silver, and there cometh forth a 
 
 vessel for the finer ; 
 Take away the wicked from before the king, and his throne shall 
 
 be established in righteousness. 
 Put not thj'self forward in the presence of the king, and stand not 
 
 in the presence of gi'eat men : 
 Far better is it that it be said unto thee, Come up hither, than that 
 
 thou shouldest be put lower in the presence of the prince whom 
 
 thine eyes have seen." — Prov. xxv. 2-7. 
 
 IT will be remembered that in the book of Samuel 
 there are two accounts of the monarchy and its 
 origin lying side by side, — different, and to all appear- 
 ance irreconcilable. One set of passages seems to 
 imply that the king was appointed by God's holy 
 purpose to fulfil the objects of His government. But 
 another set of passages seems to represent the out- 
 cry for a king as a rebellion against the sovereignty 
 of the Lord, and the appointment of a king as a 
 punishment for the people's sin. It is in agreement 
 with the first idea that provision is made in the Law 
 for a monarchical government ; but it is in agree- 
 
326 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 ment with the second idea that the actual kings prove 
 to be for the most part incompetent and faithless 
 rulers, " who do evil in the sight of the Lord," and that 
 even the best of them fall into gross sins, or are at any 
 rate guilty of grave errors. Thus David stumbled into a 
 miry pit ; Jehoshaphat experienced defeat in his alliance 
 with Ahab ; Josiah was slain at the battle of Megiddo ; 
 Uzziah was smitten with leprosy ; and Hezekiah com- 
 mitted an imprudence which incidentally brought the 
 great calamity upon his country. So it is all through. 
 
 Now the only satisfactory explanation that this two- 
 fold aspect of the kingship seems to admit of is one 
 which goes deep down into the prophetic and inspired 
 character of Israel and its history. The king in his 
 ideal aspect is throughout a type and a foreshadowing 
 of the Anointed One that was to come ; and the actual 
 failure of all the kings to realize the ideal, to govern 
 wisely, to establish righteousness, or even to observe 
 the moral law in their own persons, necessarily threw 
 men's thoughts forward to Him who should sit upon 
 the throne of David, and carry out in ways not yet 
 realized or even conceived the noble and exalted ideas 
 which clustered round the theocratic throne. Many 
 hasty critics have been swift to see and to censure the 
 ignoble failures of the men who sat upon the thrones 
 of Judah and Israel ; some critics have developed with 
 sufficient clearness the noble ideal which always 
 underlay the monarchy even in the moments of its 
 deepest decline. But comparatively few have seen 
 the significance of this contrast between the ideal and 
 the actual; and consequently only a few have per- 
 ceived with what a prolonged and emphatic voice the 
 whole story of the Kings spoke of Christ. 
 
XXV. 2-7-1 THE KING. 327 
 
 The contrast just pointed out in the historic books 
 appears with equal distinctness in this book of Wisdom ; 
 the proverbial sayings about the king exhibit the two- 
 fold thought ; and the reconciliation is only found 
 when we have realized the Kingship of Christ and can 
 bring that idea to explain the ancient forecast. Thus 
 the study of the things concerning the king is to the 
 thoughtful reader of the Proverbs a study of the things 
 concerning Christ. The ideal elements speak of Him ; 
 the actual shortcomings cry out for Him. 
 
 First we will review what is said to the glory and 
 honour of the king. He comes before us as the 
 embodiment of righteousness.^ " It is an abomination 
 to kings to commit wickedness, for the throne is 
 established by righteousness. Righteous lips are the 
 delight of kings, and they love him that speaketh 
 right." - " A king that sitteth on the throne of judg- 
 ment winnoweth away all evil with his eyes. ... A 
 wise king winnoweth the wicked and bringeth the 
 threshing wheel over them." ^ As he purges the 
 wicked, so he encourages the righteous : " Pie that 
 loveth pureness of heart hath grace on his lips, the 
 king shall be his friend." ^ There is a great severity 
 in his government : " The wrath of a king is as 
 
 ' It will be observed that, speaking generally, the early proverbs 
 present the more favourable side of the kingship, and the later 
 proverbs suggest a period of decline (see Introduction). Pos- 
 sibly the same test may serve to distinguish the passages in 
 Deuteronomy and the book of Samuel ; the brighter thought that 
 the king was originally intended by God may come from the early 
 days when the kings still promised well, and the darker thought 
 which crosses the optimistic picture may emanate from the period 
 when their failure and decline were unmistakable. 
 
 ^ Prov. xvi. 12, 13. ^ Prov. xx. 8, 26, ^ Prov. xxii. 11, 
 
328 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 messengers of death ; and a wise man will pacify it." ^ 
 ^' The king's wrath is as the roaring of a lion." ^ On 
 the other hand, his mercy is one with his severity : 
 *' His favour is as dew upon the grass." ^ ^' In the 
 light of the king's countenance is life, and his favour 
 is as a cloud of the latter rain." ^ '* Mercy and truth 
 preserve the king, and his throne is upholden by 
 mercy." ^ The fact is that his government is a vice- 
 royalty. He is the human instrument of the Divine 
 Will. *' The king's heart is in the hand of the Lord ; 
 as the watercourses" — which the farmer directs and 
 leads over his fields according to his purpose — '* he 
 turneth it whithersoever he will." ^ Thus the king 
 expresses precisely the Lord's favour towards a 
 servant that dealeth wisely, and the Lord's wrath 
 against him that causeth shame." ^ The king manifests 
 the Lord's spirit in dealing with the subject, judging 
 the cause of the poor as the Lord does. " The king 
 that judgeth faithfully the poor, his throne shall be 
 established for ever."'' He is, in a word, a manifesta- 
 tion — a revelation — of God Himself. " The glory of 
 God is to conceal a thing," />., to be unsearchable and 
 unknowable, '' and the glory of kings is to search a 
 matter out;" the king, searching the deep things of 
 God, and becoming the interpreter of the Divine will 
 to men, is Himself in the place of God to us. '' The 
 heaven for height and the earth for depth, and the 
 heart of kings there is no searching," Reflecting the 
 righteousness, the mercy, the power of God, his throne 
 is bathed in the celestial light. ''Take away dross 
 
 ' Prov. xvi. 14. ■• Prov. xx. 28. ^ Prov. xiv. 35. 
 
 ^ Prov. xix. 12. ^ Prov, xxi, I. " Prov. xxix. 14. 
 
 ^ Prov. xvi. 15. 
 
XXV. 2-7] THE KING. 329 
 
 from the silver, and there cometh forth a vessel for the 
 liner ; take away evil from before the king, and his 
 throne shall be fixed in justice." ^ 
 
 In the presence of such a sovereign the subject may 
 well abase himself, even the greatest and wisest may 
 count himself small. " Glorify not thyself before a 
 king, and in the place of the great do not stand. For 
 better is it that it be said to thee, Come up hither, 
 than that thou shouldest be put lower in the presence 
 of a prince whom thine eyes have seen." - 
 
 Rebellion against such a sovereign is the merest 
 infatuation. "Against him there is no rising up."'^ 
 " The terror of the king is as the roaring of a lion, he 
 that provoketh him to anger sinneth against his own 
 life." ^ " My son, fear thou the Lord and the king, and 
 meddle not with them who are given to change ; for 
 their calamity shall rise suddenly ; and who knoweth the 
 destruction of them both." ^ 
 
 It is evident that in all this we have an ideal picture. 
 No king that ever sat on an earthly throne, no David 
 or Hezekiah, no Antoninus or Trajan, no Charlemagne 
 or St. Louis, no Alfred or Edward the First, ever in the 
 faintest degree approached the fulfilment of the ideal. 
 The divinity which hedged them was of quite a different 
 kind from this open vision of God, this human mediator- 
 ship, this absolute subjection to the Divine will. And 
 when we leave the select class of great and good kings, 
 and look at the ordinary type of the strong and capable 
 ruler, Saul or Ahab, Alexander or Coesar, Constantine 
 or Diocletian, Clovis or Rollo, William the Conqueror or 
 
 ' Prov. XXV. 2-5. •* Prov. xx. 2. 
 
 ^ Prov. XXV. 6, 7. ^ Pro\-. xxiv. 21, 22. 
 
 * Prov. XXX. 31. 
 
330 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 Henry II., Louis XIV. or Frederick the Great, the Czar 
 Peter or Napoleon, we see at once that we have passed 
 into a region of thought and action where the descrip- 
 tion of the Proverbs becomes unreal and visionary. 
 
 There is but one way of explaining the language 
 before us. // points to Christ. In Him alone is it or 
 can it be realized. He is the only sovereign that has 
 any union with God which is at all like identity. He 
 is the only Ruler who blends with absolute infallibihty 
 severity and mercy. Of what other king could it be 
 said that "purity of heart" secures His friendship? 
 What other king has made it his first and supreme 
 object to judge faithfully the poor? What other 
 government but His has sought its security in that 
 essential duty and its fulfilment ? It is Christ alone 
 whose favour descends on the heart like dew on the 
 grass, or as a cloud of the latter rain. His is the only 
 rule against which rebellion is more than a political 
 crime, and becomes an actual sin. Of Him alone can 
 it be said with any breadth of meaning or certainty of 
 fulfilment, "Let no falsehood from the tongue be 
 spoken to the King, and no falsehood shall go out of 
 his mouth. A sword is the king's tongue, and that 
 not of flesh." ^ It is only a king absolutely righteous 
 and absolutely merciful that can ever bear down with 
 effective force upon lies and liars. It is only He that 
 would see in lying the prime sin, the incurable disease, 
 the unpardonable treason. 
 
 ' The LXX. of xxiv. 23, which adds a passage not appropriate to 
 Christ, "Whosoever is delivered up to him shall be crushed. For if 
 his temper be exasperated, he consumes men, sinews and all, and 
 crunches their bones, and burns them up as a flame, so that they are 
 uneatable to the young of eagles." 
 
-7.] THE KING. 331 
 
 The King is Christ. Before He came there was in 
 the line of His foreshadowing a typical Divine right of 
 kings. But since His coming all such kingships have 
 been anachronisms. The appeal which used to be 
 made to the Old Testament to support that famous 
 political dogma was indeed its surest refutation and 
 condemnation. For all that is said there of the inde- 
 feasible prerogative, coupled as it is with an infallibility 
 of judgment, a perfect moral goodness, and an irresis- 
 tible power, applied and could apply only to Christ. 
 Where absolute monarchy is not Christship it becomes, 
 as so many familiar passages in the Old Testament 
 show, a tyranny and an oppression, a cause of national 
 corruption and decay. 
 
 Now this leads us, in the second place, to notice how 
 the actual failure and consequent mischief of the king- 
 ship are reflected in the proverbs, and especially those 
 later proverbs which date from the decline and fall of 
 the monarchy. We have only to glance over the books 
 of Samuel and Kings to see what kind of men the 
 occupants of the throne were ; few of them show any 
 marked ability, most of them by their folly and stupidity 
 lead their people with hurried strides towards the 
 threatened catastrophe. So far from acting as vice- 
 gerents of the Lord, it is their special characteristic 
 that they are the authors of the prevailing religious 
 apostasy. Even the more favourable exceptions, the 
 kings who in the main did what was right in the eyes 
 of the Lord, had not spiritual energy enough to purify 
 the worship and restore the allegiance of their people 
 to the Lord. Now it would be some insolent and wit- 
 less tyrant who would desolate the country and drive 
 his subjects into revolt. "A raging lion, a ravening 
 
332 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 bear, a wicked ruler over a poor people. O prince, that 
 lackest understanding and art a great oppressor, he that 
 hateth rapine shall prolong his days." ^ Now it would 
 be a headstrong prince who would scorn all counsel, and, 
 refusing to be advised, would himself retire from the 
 helm of the state. " Where no wise steering is, the 
 people falleth ; but in the multitude of counsellors there 
 is safety." ^ Setting aside the maxim, " Every purpose 
 is established by counsel, and by wise guidance make 
 thou war,"^ his purposes would be disappointed.^ Now 
 the earth would be burdened and tremble with the 
 portent of a servant as king;^ one who as a servant 
 might be excellent, but once on the throne would reveal 
 all the weaknesses and vices which are essentially 
 servile.'^ Now a liar would occupy the throne, and 
 lying lips ill become a prince.' And now, owing to the 
 weakness and folly of the prince, the state would fall 
 into pieces and be torn with wildly contending factions : 
 *' For the transgression of a land many are the princes 
 thereof, but by a man of understanding and knowledge 
 right will be prolonged."^ Under the rule of the 
 wicked, population disappears.^ And while " in the 
 multitude of people is 4;he king's glory, in the want of 
 people is the destruction of the prince." ^*^ Under the 
 tyrant's sway " the people sigh." " Their persons are 
 insecure, and their property is taken from them in the 
 form of forced gifts or benevolences.^^ And as the king, 
 
 Prov. xxyiii. 15, 16. 
 
 Prov. xi. 15. The image from steering survives in our own 
 
 governor (gubernator). ^ Prov. xxviii. 12. 
 
 ^ Prov. XX. 18. ^ Prov. xxx. 22. '» Prov. xiv. 28. 
 
 ■* Prov. XV. 22. ^ Prov. xvii. 7. " Prov, xxix. 2. 
 
 * See I Kings xvi. 7. ^ Prov. xxviii. 2. '- Prov. xxix. 4 
 
XXV. 2-7.] THE KING. 333 
 
 such are his servants ; his readiness to hearken to 
 falsehood renders them all wicked.^ The atmosphere 
 of the court becomes corrupt : all truth, sincerity, purity 
 disappear. The courtier is afraid to speak his mind, 
 lest jealous listeners should report the words to the 
 monarch's suspicious ear. The very freedom of social 
 life disappears, and the table of the king becomes a trap 
 to the unwary. " When thou sittest to eat with a ruler, 
 consider diligently him that is before thee, and put a 
 knife to thy throat if thou be a man given to appetite ; 
 be not desirous of his dainties, seeing they are deceitful 
 meat." "" 
 
 Here is the complete and absolute corruption of the 
 Divine royalty. The description holds true age after 
 age ; suggested by the decline of the monarchy in Israel, 
 it applies accurately to the Imperial government at 
 Rome, and it might have been written to describe the 
 character and the government of the Stuarts in England. 
 Strong in what they supposed to be their Divine Right, 
 they became liars and hearkened to falsehood ; their 
 servants became wicked ; their government perished 
 from its own inherent rottenness. The description 
 holds too of the French monarchy from the time of 
 Louis XIV. to its fall. And it would seem, as indeed we 
 may confidently believe, that the slow and imperceptible 
 decay of the faith in the divine right of kings has been 
 
 ' Prov. xxix. 12. Cf. Ecclesiasticus x. 2: "As the judge of the 
 people is himself, so are his officers ; and what manner of man the 
 ruler of the city is, such are they also that dwell therein." 
 
 '^ Prov. xxiii. I -3. Cf. the Eastern adage, "Dainties of a king 
 burn the lips." It was a common occurrence at the court of Pope 
 Alexander VI. to invite an obnoxious person to tlic Papal table and 
 there dispose of him by means of poisoned food. 
 
334 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 in God's hands a long preparation for the reign of 
 Him whose right it is to reign, Jesus Christ, the true 
 King of men. 
 
 But there is still one other characteristic cause of 
 the perverted kingship, to which attention is drawn in 
 xxxi. 2-8 : '' Give not thy strength unto women, nor 
 thy ways to that which destroyeth kings. It is not 
 for kings, O Lemuel, it is not for kings to drink wine, 
 nor for princes to say, Where is strong drink ? Lest 
 they drink and forget the law, and pervert the judg- 
 ment of any that is afflicted." These fleshly vices are 
 peculiarly common and peculiarly ruinous to kings, 
 preventing them from pleading *' the cause of such as 
 are left desolate," and from *' ministering judgment to 
 the poor and needy." ^ It is in realizing the private 
 life of kings, and in observing how seldom they have 
 practised temperance, chastity, self-control, and how 
 readily their contemporaries and even posterity have 
 dispensed them from these primary obligations, that 
 we plainly recognise the broad divergence between 
 the facts of earthly monarchies and the description 
 of the heavenly monarchy, and thus are prepared to 
 recognise with gratitude and awe the sole sovereignty 
 of Christ. The cry of the Florentines under the tem- 
 porary excitement created by Savonarola's preaching 
 was, " Jesus is our King, only Jesus." That is the 
 constant and ever-swelling cry of human hearts. The 
 types and shadows fall away; through the forms the 
 spirit becomes apparent. It is Christ that claims and 
 wins and enchains our loyalty. We are His subjects, 
 He is our absolute Lord ; we have no king but Jesus. 
 
 ' Prov. xxxi. 8, 9. 
 
XXV. 2-7.] THE KING. 335 
 
 There is in every human heart a loyalty which seeks 
 for a fitting object; if it finds no lawful king, it will 
 attach itself to a pretender. What pathos there is in 
 the sacrifice which men have made, and in the deeds 
 which they have dared, for Pretenders who have had no 
 claim upon their devotion or allegiance ! " Show me my 
 rightful sovereign," seems to be the implicit demand 
 of us all. And the answer has been given, " Behold, 
 your king cometh unto you," in the lowly person, but 
 commanding majesty, of Jesus. Many have accepted 
 this and have cried, " Blessed is the king that cometh 
 in the name of the Lord." ^ 
 
 Shall we not bring our loyalty to Him, recognising 
 the One whom prophets and wise men foretold, and 
 acknowledging in His sway the authority which all 
 other governments, even the best of them, lack ? Let 
 no false shame or fear restrain our homage ; let not 
 the sneers of those over whom " other lords have do- 
 minion " keep our knees from bending, and our tongues 
 from confessing, '* The fear of man bringeth a snare ; 
 but whoso putteth his trust in the Lord shall be safe. 
 Many seek the ruler's favour," — their whole thought is 
 to stand well with the powers that be, and to secure 
 the recognition of the Pretender who happens at any 
 given moment to be directing the affairs of the world, — 
 " but a man's judgment cometh from the Lord," his 
 rightful King,^ and to stand right with Him is all 
 that need concern us. How well the King of men 
 understood that because He came in humility — His 
 birthplace a manger, His throne a fishing-boat or a 
 wayside well, riding not in chariots of state, " but on an 
 
 ' Luke xix. 38. * Prov, xxix. 25, 26. 
 
336 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 ass, and the foal of an ass ; " because His appeal would 
 be, not to the eye, but to the heart ; not to the outward, 
 but the inward ; not to the temporal, but to the eternal, 
 — men, with their perverted and misapplied loyalties, 
 would reject Him and be ashamed to confess Him. 
 False kingships have dazzled our eyes, and hidden 
 from us the grandeur of a Sovereign who is among us 
 as one that ser\'eth. From the touch of His humiliation 
 we shrink. 
 
 But if the heart recognises and owns its lawful 
 Sovereign ; if, captivated by His indescribable beauty 
 and bowed before His indisputable authority, it seeks 
 only in profound obeisance and absolute surrender, to 
 worship and adore and serve, how ro3^al is His treat- 
 ment, how unstinted are His largesses. "Come up 
 hither," He says, bringing the soul higher and higher, 
 into fuller vision, into more buoyant life, into more 
 effectual service. The evil ruler, we saw, made all 
 his ser\^ants wicked. Christ, as King, makes all His 
 servants hoty, dwelling in them, and subduing their 
 hearts to Himself in ever truer devotion ; He through 
 them carries out His vast designs of love in those 
 portions of His dominion where rebels still rise up 
 against Him, and where poor deluded hearts still 
 fretfully cry, ''We will not have this ]\Ian to rule over 
 us." " In the multitude of people is the king's glory." 
 May God hasten the time when all peoples and tongues 
 shall bow down to and worship our King ! 
 
XXVI. 
 
 THE FOOL. 
 
 " As snow in summer, and as rain in harvest, so honour is not 
 
 seemly for a fool. . . . 
 A whip for the horse, a bridle for the ass, and a rod for the back 
 
 of fools. 
 Answer not a fool according to his folly, lest thou also be like unto 
 
 him. 
 Answer a fool according to his folly, lest he be wise in his own 
 
 conceit. 
 He that sendeth a message by the hand of a fool cutteth off his 
 
 own feet, and drinketh in damage. 
 The legs of the lame hang loose : so is a parable in the mouth of 
 
 fools. 
 As a bag of gems in a heap of stones, so is he that giveth honour 
 
 to a fool. 
 As a thorn that goeth up into the hand of a drunkard, so is a 
 
 parable in the mouth of fools. 
 As an archer that woundeth all, so is he that hireth the fool and 
 
 he that hireth them that pass by. 
 As a dog that returneth to his vomit, so is a fool that repeateth 
 
 his folly. 
 Seest thou a man wise in his own conceit ? there is more hope 
 
 of a fool than of him." — Prov. xxvi. I, 3-12. 
 
 THIS passage points out certain characteristics of 
 the fool, a term which occurs so frequently in 
 the book of Proverbs that we must try to conceive 
 clearly what is to be understood by it. The difficulty 
 of forming a distinct conception arises from the fact 
 that there are three different words, with different 
 
 22 
 
338 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 shades of meaning, all rendered by the one English 
 expression, fool or folly. For want of carefully dis- 
 tinguishing these delicate varieties of the original, some 
 of the proverbs appear in English tautological and 
 almost meaningless. We must try then to separate 
 and to undefstand these several terms. 
 
 The Hebrew word which most frequently occurs in 
 the book to designate fool, ?^l^?, together with its de- 
 rivative, which is the usual word for folly, ^??.^*, signifies 
 weakness. We are to think of that ignorant, incon- 
 siderate, sanguine, and self-confident temper which 
 eschews counsel, which will have its own way, which 
 decHnes to be governed by reason, which forms fond 
 expectations and baseless hopes, and which is always 
 sure that everything will turn out according to its wish, 
 though it takes no means to secure the desired result. 
 Perhaps the simplest way of describing the habit of mind 
 and the type of character intended by the Plebrew is 
 to use the word infatuation. This would not do as c. 
 translation in all the passages where it occurs, but i^ 
 will serve to point out the underlying idea. I 
 
 The word which comes next in frequency, ''^P|, — the/^ 
 word used uniformly throughout the particular passage/-' 
 before us, — has at its root the notion of grossness, the ? 
 dull and heavy habit of one whose heart has waxec 
 fat, whose ears are slow to hear, and whose higher 
 perceptions and nobler aspirations have succumbed to 
 the sensual and earthly nature. We have to think of 
 moral, as well as mental, stupidity, of insensibility to 
 all that is true and good and pure. The fool in this 
 sense is such a dullard that he commits wickedness 
 without perceiving it,^ and utters slanders almost 
 
 ' Prov. X. 23. 
 
:xvi. 1,3-12.] THE FOOL. 
 
 unconsciously ; ^ he does not know when to be silent ; '^ 
 whatever is in him quickly appears,^ but when it is 
 known it is very worthless ; ^ nor has he the sense to 
 get wisdom, even when the opportunity is in his hand ; '' 
 his best advantages are quickly wasted and he is none 
 the better.^ Perhaps the English word which best fits 
 the several suggestions of the Hebrew one is sense/ess. 
 
 The third term, ^??, occurs only four times in the 
 book. It is derived from a verb signifying to fade and 
 wither. It describes the inward shrinking and shrivel- 
 ling of a depraved nature, the witlessness which results 
 from wickedness. It contains in itself a severer cen- 
 sure than the other two. Thus " He that begetteth 
 a senseless man (^^P?) doeth it to his sorrow, but the 
 father of the bad fool (^^P) hath no joy."^ In the one 
 case there is trouble enough, in the other there is 
 nothing but trouble. Thus it is one of the four things 
 -for which the earth trembles when a man of this kind 
 is filled with meat.*^ This third character is sketched 
 for us in the person of Nabal, whose name, as Abigail 
 says, is simply the Hebrew word for fool in its worst 
 sense, which fits exactly to its bearer. But dismissing 
 this type of folly which is almost synonymous with 
 consummate wickedness, of which indeed it is the out- 
 come, we may turn to the distinction we have drawn 
 between infatuation and senselessness in order to 
 explain and understand some of the Proverbs in which 
 the words occur. 
 
 First of all we may notice how difficult it is to get 
 
 ' Prov. X. 1 8. * Prov. xvii. i6. 
 
 ^ Prov. xii. 23. ® Prov. xxi. 20. 
 
 ' Prov. xiv. 33. ' Prov. xvii. 21. 
 
 * Prov. xiv. 7. ' Prov. xxx. 22. 
 
340 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 rid of the folly of infatuation : " Though thou shouldest 
 bray a person possessed of it in a mortar with a pestle 
 among bruised corn, yet will it not depart from him." ^ 
 " It is bound up in the heart of a child," ^ and the 
 whole object of education is to get it out; but if child- 
 hood passes into manhood, and the childish wilfulness, 
 self-confidence, and irrationality are not expelled, the 
 case is well-nigh hopeless. Correction is practically 
 useless ; " He must be a thorough fool," it has been 
 said, " who can learn nothing from his own folly ; " but 
 that is precisely the condition of the infatuated people 
 we are considering; the only correction of their infatua- 
 tion is a further increase of it.^ The reason is practi- 
 cally choked ; the connection between cause and effect 
 is lost : thus every ill consequence of the rash act or 
 of the vicious habit is regarded as a misfortune instead 
 of a fault. The wretched victim of his own folly reviles 
 fortune, nature, men, and even God, and will not 
 recognise that his worst enemy is himself. Thus, while 
 the wise are always learning and growing rich from 
 experience, ^* the infatuation of senseless men is in- 
 fatuation still." * It is this which makes them so 
 hopeless to deal with ; their vexation being quite 
 irrational, and always refusing to recognise the obvious 
 facts, is worse than a heavy stone or the piled-up over- 
 
 * Prov, xxvii. 22. ^ Prov. xxii. 15. ^ Prov. xvi. 22. 
 
 * Prov. xiv. 24. This seems simpler than supposing that the clause 
 D.'P:1^? Dy''p5 Tv>)]A contains a play upon the possible double meaning 
 of ri?|lNj which, though it yields an excellent sense, — " the power of 
 fools is only folly," i.e., when they have power they turn it only to a 
 foolish account {cf. xxvi. l), — must be regarded as very obscure, 
 especially seeing that we have no positive instance of n./.^.^ ^s a 
 derivative of TJ-IN in the sense of " power." 
 
xxvi. 1,3-12.] THE FOOL. 341 
 
 weight of sand for others to bear.^ If a wise man 
 has a case with such a person, the ill-judged fury and 
 the misplaced laughter alike make it impossible to 
 arrive at any sound settlement.^ 
 
 The untrained, undisciplined nature, which thus 
 declines the guidance of reason and is unteachable 
 because of its obstinate self-confidence, is constantly 
 falling into sin. Indeed, strictly speaking, its whole 
 attitude is sinful, its every thought is sin.^ For reason 
 is God's gift, and to slight it is to slight Him. He 
 requires of us a readiness to be taught, and an openness 
 to the lessons which are forced upon us by Nature, by 
 experience, by our own human hearts. This flighty, 
 feather-brained, inconsequential mode of thinking and 
 living, the wilful neglect of all the means by which we 
 might grow wiser, and the confident assurance that, 
 whatever happens, we are not accountable for it, are 
 all an offence against God, a failure to be what we 
 ought to be, a missing of the mark, a neglect of the 
 law, which is, in a word, sin. 
 
 But now let us look at the fool in the second signi- 
 fication, which occurs in this twenty-sixth chapter so 
 frequently, — the man who has become spiritually gross 
 and insensible, unaware of Divine truths and con- 
 sequently obtuse to human duties. We may take the 
 proverbs in the order in which they occur. " As snow 
 in summer, and as rain in harvest, so honour is net 
 seemly for a fool." It is a melancholy fact that the 
 kind of person here referred to is too often found in 
 positions of honour among men. Men rise to distinction 
 in an artificial order of society, not by wisdom, but by 
 
 ' Prov. xxvii. 3. - Prov. xxix. 9. ' Prov. xxiv. 9. 
 
342 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 the accident of birth and opportunity ; and not un- 
 frequently the ill-placed honour itself leads to that 
 insensibility which is so severely censured. The crass 
 dulness, the perversity of judgment, the unfeeling 
 severity, often displayed by prominent and distinguished 
 persons, are no matter of surprise, and will not be, 
 until human society learns to bring its honours only 
 to the wise and the good. ^' Delicate living is not 
 seemly for such persons." ^ It is precisely the comfort, 
 the dignity, the exaltation, which prove their ruin. 
 Now it is true that we cannot always trace the effects 
 of this misplaced honour, but we are reminded that 
 it is out of the course of Nature's eternal laws, incon- 
 gruous as snow in summer, hurtful as rain in harvest. 
 Consequently the due penalty must inevitably come. 
 According to one reading of ver. 2, this penalty which 
 overtakes the exalted fool is thus described : ^ '^ As the 
 sparrow in her wandering, and the swallow in her 
 flying, so a gratuitous curse shall come upon him." 
 In any case ver. 3 states clearly enough what will 
 eventually happen : " A whip for the horse, a bridle 
 for the ass, and a rod for the back of fools." It is 
 not, of course, that this penalty can be remedial, but 
 Nature herself prepares a "rod for the back of him 
 that is void of understanding;"^ ''As judgments are 
 prepared for scorners, so are stripes for the back of 
 fools." ^ Nor must we only understand this of fools 
 that attain to unnatural honour : there are many 
 dullards and insensates who are not made such by the 
 
 ' Prov. xix. 10. 
 
 - This is reading v for NP, a constant source of confusion and 
 interchange in Hebrew MSS. 
 
 * Prov. xix. 29. 
 
xxvi. I, ;-i2. 
 
 THE FOOL. 343 
 
 stupidity of misdirected admiration, but by their own 
 moral delinquencies; and as surely as the sparrow after 
 Hitting about all day returns to her nest in the dusk, 
 or as the swallow in the long summer flight arrives 
 at her appointed place, the punishment of folly will 
 find out the delinquent. It may be long delayed, but 
 an awakening comes at last; the man who hardened 
 his heart, who turned away from the pleadings of God 
 and mocked at His judgments, who chose the vanishing 
 things of time and scorned the large fruition of eternity, 
 discovers his incredible stupidity, and the lash of re- 
 morse falls all the more heavily because it is left in the 
 hand of conscience alone.^ We must never lose sight 
 of the fact that by the fool is not meant the simple or 
 the short-witted ; there is in this folly of the proverbs 
 a moral cause and a moral responsibility which involve 
 a moral censure ; the senseless of whom we are speak- 
 ing are they whose " heart is waxed gross, and their 
 ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes they have 
 closed ; lest haply they should perceive with their eyes, 
 and hear with their ears, and understand with their 
 heart." - 
 
 We are in the main obliged to leave the insensate 
 to God and their conscience, because it is well-nigh 
 impossible for us to deal with them. They are 
 intractable and even savage as wild animals. '' Let a 
 bear robbed of her whelps meet a man, rather than a 
 fool in his infatuation." ^ They are irritated with any 
 
 ' "Quos divi conscia facti 
 Mens habet attonitos et surdo verbcrc csedit, 
 Occultum quaticnte animo tortore flagellum." 
 
 — Juv., Sat., xiii., 193. 
 - Matt. xiii. 15. ^ Prov. xvii. 12. 
 
344 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 suggestion of spiritual things, indignant with any hint 
 of their own case and its responsibilities. If, on the 
 one hand, you try to approach them on their own 
 ground, to realize their motives and work upon the 
 base ideas which alone influence such minds, you seem 
 to lose all power over them by coming down to their 
 level. " Answer not a fool according to his infatuation, 
 lest thou also be like him." ^ If, on the other hand, you 
 feel bound to convict him of his folly, and to humble 
 him to a sense of his position, you are obliged to use 
 the language which will be intelligible to him. "Answer 
 a fool according to his infatuation, lest he be wise in his 
 own e3^es." - I recollect one Sunday afternoon passing 
 by a large village public-house, and it chanced that a 
 little group of street preachers were doing their best to 
 make known the Gospel to the idlers who were sitting 
 on the benches outside. Going up to interest the men 
 in what was being said, I was confronted by the land- 
 lord, who was in a state of almost frenzied indignation. 
 He denounced the preachers as hypocrites and scoun- 
 drels, who lived on the honest earnings of those whom 
 he saw around him. Every attempt to bring him to 
 reason, to show that the men in question spent their 
 money on drink and not on the preachers, to secure 
 a patient hearing for the gracious message, was met 
 only with violent abuse directed against myself. The 
 man was precisely what is meant in these verses by a 
 fool, one in whom all spiritual vision was blinded by 
 greed and sensuality, in whom the plainest dictates 
 of common sense and human courtesy were silenced ; 
 to answer him in his own vein was the only way of 
 
 ' Prov. xxvi. 4. - Prov. xxvi. 5. 
 
xxvi. 1,3-12.] THE FOOL. 345 
 
 exposing his folly, and yet to answer him in such a 
 way was to come down to his own level. What could 
 be done except to leave him to the judgments which 
 are prepared for scorners and to the stripes which 
 await the back of fools? A fool uttereth all his anger, 
 and facing the torrent of angry words it is impossible 
 to effectually carry home to him any wholesome 
 truth/ 
 
 We have seen how the kind of man that we are 
 describing is in an utterly false position when any 
 dignity or honour is attributed to him ; indeed, to give 
 such honour is much the same as binding a stone in a 
 sling to be immediately slung out again, probably to 
 some one's injury ; - but he is almost equally useless in 
 a subordinate position. If, for instance, he is employed 
 as a messenger, he is too dull to rightly conceive or 
 correctly report the message. He will almost certainly 
 colour it wnth his own fancies, if he does not pervert 
 it to his own ends. To receive and to deliver any 
 message accurately requires a certain truthfulness in 
 perception and in speech of which this unfortunate 
 creature is entirely devoid. Thus any one who em- 
 ploys him in this capacity might as well cut off his 
 own feet, as he drinks damage to himself." 
 
 It is the awful punishment which comes to us all, 
 when we allow our heart to wax gross, that wisdom 
 itself becomes folly in our lips, and truth herself 
 becomes error. Thus if we know a proverb, or a text, 
 or a doctrine, we are sure to give it a lame application, 
 so that, instead of supporting what we wish to enforce, 
 it hangs down helpless like a cripple's legs.* In this 
 
 ' Prov. xxix. II. ' Prov. xxvi. 6. 
 
 ^ Prov. xxvi. 8. * Prov. xxvi. 7. 
 
346 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 way the insensate corruptness of the Mediaeval Church 
 tried to justify the abuse of giving great ecclesiastical 
 preferments to young children by quoting the text, 
 '' Out of the mouths of babes and suckhngs thou hast 
 perfected praise." Sometimes the result of this culpable 
 stupidity is far more disastrous ; it is like *' a thorn 
 which runs up into a drunkard's hand," visiting with 
 terrible condemnation those who have misused and 
 perverted the truth/ as when Torquemada and the 
 administrators of the Inquisition based their diaboHcal 
 conduct on the gracious words of the Lord, " Compel 
 them to come in." No, the fool's heart can give no 
 wholesome message ; it will turn the very message of 
 the Gospel into a curse and a Wight, and by its dull 
 and revolting insensibility it will libel God to man, 
 suggesting that the Infinite Father, the Eternal God, 
 is altogether such an one as these who profess to 
 speak in His name. 
 
 The offence of the fool then cannot be condoned on 
 the ground that he is only an enemy to himself It is 
 his master that he wrongs. As the proverb says, ''A 
 master produces all things, but a fool's wages and hirer 
 too pass away." ^ The fool loses what he earns him- 
 self: that is true, but he undoes his employer also. 
 One is our Master, even Christ ; He hires us for 
 service in His vineyard ; when we suffer our heart to 
 
 •' Prov. xxvi. 9. 
 
 - Prov. xxvi. 10. This rendering Delitzsch obtained by altering the 
 vowel points in the first "ID^ into l^b, and the sense is good, if a 
 little far-fetched. On the other hand, the received reading gives a 
 plain though a somewhat insipid meaning: "Much produces all," — 
 whoever has a little and uses it well quickly gets more, — "but he that 
 hires a fool is as he who hires passers by," i.e. the employment of a fool 
 is a barren undertaking which practically leads to nothing. 
 
xxvi. 1,3-12.] THE FOOL. 347 
 
 wax dull, when we grow unspiritual, unresponsive, and 
 insensate, it is not only that we lose our reward, but 
 we crucify the Son of God afresh and put Him to an 
 open shame. 
 
 And the worst, the most mournful, feature about this 
 fool's condition is that it tends to a perpetual self- 
 repetition : " As a dog that returneth to his vomit, so a 
 fool is always repeating his folly." ^ Every hardening 
 of the heart prepares for a fresh hardening, every 
 refusal of truth will lead to another refusal. Last 
 Sunday you managed to evade the message which God 
 sent you : that makes it much easier to evade the 
 message He sends you to-day. Next Sunday you will 
 be almost totally indifferent. Soon you will get out of 
 reach altogether of His word, saying it does you no 
 good. Then you will deny that it is His word or His 
 message. You pass from folly to folly, from infatuation 
 to infatuation, until at last you can with a grave face 
 accept the monstrous self-contradiction of materialism, 
 or wallow unresisting in the slime of a tormenting 
 sensuality. *' As the dog returns to his vomit" ! 
 
 It must be owned that the condition of the fool 
 seems sufficiently sad, and the gloom is deepened by 
 the fact that our book knows nothing of a way by 
 which the fool may become wise. The Proverbs 
 uniformly regard the foolish and the wise as generically 
 distinct ; between the two classes there is a great gulf 
 fixed. There is the fool, trusting in his own heart, 
 incurring stripes, not profiting by them, always the 
 same incorrigible and hopeless creature ; and there is 
 the wise man, always delivered, learning from experi- 
 
 ' Prov. xxvi. II. 
 
148 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 ence, becoming better and better.^ The only suggestion 
 of hope is a comparative one : " Seest thou a man wise 
 in his own conceit ? there is more hope of a fool 
 than of him." "- But there is no tone of confidence about 
 this assurance, because, as we have repeatedly seen, 
 the case of the proud or conceited man is regarded 
 as practically desperate. 
 
 No, for comfort and hope in this matter we have to 
 turn away from the Ancient Wisdom to the revealed 
 Wisdom, Christ Jesus. It is He and He alone who 
 practically forbids us to be hopeless about any one. A 
 noble Roman in the time of the Punic Wars received 
 an honourable recognition from the Senate because he 
 had not in the darkest times despaired of the Republic. 
 That is the kind of debt that we owe to the Saviour. 
 He has not despaired of any human being ; He will 
 not let us despair. It is His peculiar power, tried 
 and proved again and again, to turn the fool into the 
 wise man. Observing the threefold distinction which 
 is hidden under the word we have been examining, 
 Christ is able to arouse the weak, fond, infatuated 
 soul to a sense of its need. Could there be a better 
 instance than that of the woman at the well, — a foolish 
 creature living in conscious sin, yet full of specious 
 religious talk ? Did He not awake in her the thirst for 
 the living water, and satisfy the craving which He had 
 excited ? Christ is able to transform the dull and 
 heavy soul, that has suffered itself to be mastered 
 by greed and petrified by selfishness. Was not 
 this what He did to Zaccheus the publican ? And 
 
 ' Prov. xxviii. 26 ; cf. ix. 8 and xxiii, 9. 
 ^ Prov. xxvi. 12. 
 
THE FOOL. 349 
 
 even with that worst kind of fool, whose heart is 
 withered up within him by reason of sin, and who has 
 learnt to say in his heart that there is no God,^ the 
 Lord is not helpless. We do not see such an one in 
 the pages of the New Testament, because the folly of 
 Atheism was not among the follies of those times. But 
 in our own day it is an experience by no means un- 
 common ; when an avowed infidel comes under the 
 power of the Gospel, Christ enters into him with 
 the overwhelming conviction that there is a God ; 
 Christ shows him how it is sin which has thus obscured 
 the elementary conviction of the human spirit ; and, by 
 the direct power of Christ, his heart comes to him 
 again as that of a little child, while in the rapturous 
 joy of believing he lays aside the folly which made him 
 doubt along with the sin which made him unwilling to 
 believe. 
 
 ^3, Psah 
 
XXVII. 
 
 LIVING DAY BY DAY. 
 
 " Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day 
 will bring forth." — Prov. xxvii. i. 
 
 "The grave and destruction are never satisfied ; and the eyes cf 
 men are never satisfied ; " and LXX. adds, " An abomination to the 
 Lord is he who sets his eye, and undisciplined men uncontrolled in 
 tongue." — Prov. xxvii. 20. 
 
 " Whoso keepeth the fig tree shall eat the fruit thereof, so he that 
 waits on his Lord eats of the honour." — Prov. xxvii. 18. 
 
 HERE is a wholesome lesson for us. We are to 
 trust no future, however pleasant ; we are to 
 dwell in no past, however honourable. Life consists of 
 a present, given to us day by day ; this is our whole 
 wealth ; squandered, it cannot be recovered ;' neglected, 
 it withers as a leaf. Titus, the Roman Emperor, would 
 say in the evening, when he had omitted his duties or 
 failed in his purposes, Perdidi diem^ '' I have lost a 
 day ; " — yes, that lost day is lost for ever ; other days 
 may come, but not that one ; the duties of that day may 
 be performed afterwards or by other hands, but still 
 the day is lost, because it passed away empty. The 
 thief which cheats us of our days, and beggars us of 
 our wealth, is the specious thought that to-morrow 
 belongs to us. The illusion is as old as the world, but 
 is to-day as fresh and powerful as ever. We have to 
 shake ourselves free of a spell, and awake out of a 
 
xxvii. 1, 20, i8.] LIVING DAY BY DAY. 351 
 
 dream, to see that when to-morrow comes it is already 
 to-day. 
 
 We only begin to live in any true and satisfactory 
 sense when we have learnt to take each day by itself, 
 and to use it as if it were our last, and indeed as if it 
 were our all ; dismissing the thought of to-morrow as a 
 mere phantom which for ever evades our grasp. Life is 
 a mosaic, a large work shaping on the wall or in the dome 
 of some vast cathedral which eye hath not yet seen ; 
 and it can only be effectually wrought if, with minute 
 and concentrated care, the little piece of coloured glass 
 which we call To-day is duly fixed into its bedding and 
 fitted exactly to its immediate neighbours. " Why do 
 you work with such intensity ? " the great artist was 
 once asked ; " Because I work for eternity," was the 
 answer. And that is why each day is of such import- 
 ance ; that is why each day demands all our thought 
 and care: eternity is made up of days, and the present 
 day is all of eternity that we can ever possess. 
 ^It is well for us then each morning to take the day 
 fresh from God's hands, and at once to throw our whole 
 soul into it, and to live it with a pure intensity, a sense 
 of solemn and jpyjiLLxesponsibility. \ 
 
 "Oh, Day, if I squander a wavelet of thee, 
 A mite of my twelve-hours' treasure, 
 The least of thy gazes or glances 
 (Be they grants thou art bound to or gifts above measure), 
 
 One of thy choices or one of thy chances 
 (Be they tasks God imposed thee or freaks of thy pleasure), — 
 My Day, if I squander such labour or leisure, 
 Then shame fall on Asolo, mischief on me.'' ' 
 
 But it may be said, Is not this the life of a mere butter- 
 ' Browning, Pippa Passes. 
 
352 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 fly ? Is it not the mark of a prudent man to work with 
 his eye on the future, — ^' Prepare thy work without, and 
 make it ready for thee in the field, and afterwards 
 build thine house" ? ^ Is it not just what we have to 
 complain of in the foolish man that he ignores to-morrow, 
 — *' A prudent man seeth the evil and hideth himself, but 
 the simple pass on and suffer for it " ? ^ 
 
 Here is an apparent contradiction which requires 
 reflection. And the difficulty increases when we 
 remember that most worthy works are the labour of 
 years : an architect lays his plans for a great building 
 which he can hardly hope to see finished in his own 
 lifetime ; an author spends days and months and years 
 in the preparation of materials, and must depend on 
 the uncertain future for a time to shape them into a 
 book ; a statesman, in proportion as he is wise, avoids 
 what is called a hand-to-mouth policy, and lays his 
 plans with his eye on distant possibilities, well 
 knowing that his immediate actions are liable to mis- 
 understanding, and may prove to be a complete failure 
 unless the opportunity is accorded him of reahzing his 
 far-reaching schemes. And, in the same way, youth is 
 spent in education which derives all its value from the 
 expected years of manhood, and all the days of a good 
 life are necessarily a preparation for that which is to 
 come after : we must study in order that we may 
 teach ; we must train ourselves for duties which will 
 come upon us, as we may reasonably suppose, in some 
 distant future. Yet our to-morrow is unknown ; we are 
 not to boast ourselves of it ; we cannot tell what a day 
 may bring forth, and must therefore live only in to-day. 
 
 ' Prov. xxiv. 27, - Prov. xxii, 3 ; xxvii. 12* 
 
xxvii. 1, 20, i8.] LIVING DAY BY DAY. 353 
 
 Now the solution of this difficulty leads us to one 
 of the profoundest of all spiritual truths. It is this : 
 No life can be worth anything at all apart from the 
 Eternal God, and faith in Him. Life cannot be really 
 lived if it is merely " a measure of sliding sand " taken 
 " from under the feet of the years." Our swift days 
 cannot be effectually and wisely used unless we are 
 linked with Him who embraces in Himself the past, 
 the present, and the future. Our work, whatever it 
 may be, cannot be rightly done unless we are, and 
 know ourselves to be, in the great Taskmaster's sight. 
 The proper use of each day can only be made if we 
 are confident that our times are in His hands ; only 
 in this quiet assurance can we have composure and 
 detachment of spirit enough to give our whole strength 
 to the duty in hand. We must be sure that the Master- 
 Artist knows the whole mosaic, and is ordering all the 
 parts, before we can surrender ourselves to the task of 
 putting to-day's piece into its place ; we must have 
 complete faith in the Architect who is designing the 
 whole structure, before we can have our mind at 
 leisure from itself to chip our block of stone or to 
 carve our tiny gurgoyle. We can only live in the 
 present, making the most of that which is really ours, 
 on condition that we have God as our Future, relieving 
 us of all anxious care, and assuring to us just strength 
 for to-day. 
 
 Thus pur text has an implied contrast, which we 
 may draw out in this way : " Boast not thyself of 
 to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may 
 bring forth ; " but boast thyself in God all the day long,^ 
 
 ' Psalm xliv. 8. 
 
 23 
 
354 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 for thou knowest that He will bring forth righteous- 
 ness, wisdom, and love continually. 
 
 Now let us follow out some of the consequences of 
 this spiritual attitude. Examine the condition of these 
 restless human hearts all around us without God. 
 They are all toiling for to-morrow. Here is one making 
 money, as it is called ; he is looking forward to laying 
 aside so many thousands this year; in a few more 
 years he hopes to realize a round sum which will 
 relieve him from the necessity of toil and of further 
 money-making. His eye is set upon that goal. At 
 last he reaches it. Now his desire should be satisfied, 
 but no, ** Sheol and Abaddon are never satisfied, 
 and the eyes of man are never satisfied." ^ He does 
 not stay a night at the desired goal ; he is off before 
 sunset; all the strain and the fret must be faced 
 over again. Or look at the boundless ambition which 
 possesses godless men ; honours achieved only whet 
 their appetite for more. We need not assume that the 
 ambition is unworthy ; all we have to notice is its 
 insatiability ; in politics, in literature, in art, in social 
 distinction, it is like Sheol and Abaddon, — a maw that 
 ever opens ; a gulf that can swallow anything and 
 everything, yet never be filled. The LXX. addition" 
 seems to regard this uncontrolled desire as the mark 
 of deficient culture ; and, spiritually speaking, no doubt 
 it is. Men without God are always uncultured ; they 
 have not found the centre of their being, they have not 
 procured the key-stone to their accumulated know- 
 ledge, and it is in consequence, not an arch through 
 which they can travel to any goal, but a confused pile 
 
 ^ Prov. xxvii. 20. - See heading of chapter. 
 
1,20, i8.] LIVING DAY BY DAY. 355 
 
 which blocks the way. These desperate strivings and 
 loud-tongued, undisciplined desires are an abomination 
 to the Lord, because they mar His mighty plan and 
 introduce disorder where He intended order, discord 
 where He intended harmony, deformity where He 
 intended beauty. They are the work of egoism in- 
 stead of theism. 
 
 It is needless to dwell upon the heart-sores and 
 the disappointments which fall to the lot of the people 
 whom we are thinking of. What ghastly mockery 
 the morrows on which they counted prove to be ! In 
 some lonely and rocky island, girdled by the moan- 
 ing of the dreary seas, and cut off from all the interests 
 which gave to life its excitement, egotism ends its 
 days. Or it is on some restless couch, surrounded 
 by all the outward trappings of wealth and power, that 
 the dying spirit cries, '* My kingdom for an inch of time! " 
 The man who by his brilliant genius has drawn all his 
 generation after him passes, bearing '' through Europe 
 the pageant of his bleeding heart," to a hopeless grave. 
 The woman who has achieved the end of her ambition, 
 ruling the courts of fashion, the acknowledged queen 
 of salons, ends her days with a sense of frustration, 
 cynical in her contempt for the world which was foolish 
 enough to follow and admire her. 
 
 But, on the other hand, here is one who boasts 
 himself in God. 
 
 "Lord, it belongs not to my care," ^ 
 
 is the language of his spirit, \ 
 
 " Whether I die or live ; 
 To love and serve Thee is my share, 
 And that Thy grace must give." 
 
356 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 The first thing that strikes you in him in his perfect 
 peace. His mind is stayed on God. The future has 
 no terrors for him, nor has it any joys. God is all 
 in all to him, and God is his now. His treasure is in 
 possession, and moth and rust do not corrupt it, nor 
 can thieves break through or steal. To say that he 
 is contented seems too mild a term for so positive and 
 joyous a calm. But in contrast with the discontent 
 which prevails everywhere outside of God, it is worth 
 while to dilate on this passive virtue of contentment. 
 That endless worry about little things has ceased : 
 he is not annoyed because some one fails to recognise 
 him ; he is not affected by the malicious or scandalous 
 things which are said about him ; he is not anxious 
 for human recognition, and is therefore never distressed 
 because others are more courted than he is ; he knows 
 nothing of that malignant passion of jealousy which 
 is worse than the cruelty of wrath and' the flooding of 
 anger ; ^ he does not want wealth and he does not 
 dread poverty. He says : — 
 
 " Some have too much, yet still do crave ; 
 
 I little have, and seek no more : 
 They are but poor though much they have, 
 
 And I am rich with little store : 
 They poor, I rich ; they beg, I give ; 
 They lack, I leave ; they pine, I live."- 
 
 When we have entered into this Divine content and 
 are made by our absolute trust in God free from care 
 for the future, it is wonderful how quick we become 
 to see good in apparent evils. To the world this is 
 so incredible that it suspects insincerity, but there is 
 
 ^ Prov. xxvii. 4. - Sir Edward Dyer {b. 1540). 
 
xxvii. I, 20, iS.J LIVING DAY BY DAY. 357 
 
 nothing more sincere and more real. A poor child 
 who was blind found the greatest blessing in the afflic- 
 tion, saying, '' You see, I can give more to the Missionary 
 Society than the other children, because I can knit in 
 the dark, and have not to spend money on candles." 
 You go to one of God's children expecting to find 
 him broken down and rebellious under some great 
 and undeserved calamity, but you find that he has 
 discovered a blessing in the loss before you get there, 
 and is actually rejoicing, or at any rate he is replying 
 to all provocations, " The Lord gave and the Lord took 
 away ; blessed be the name of the Lord." He is 
 afQicted, but you cannot think of him as afflicted, for 
 '' all the days of the afflicted are evil, but he that is 
 of a cheerful spirit hath a continual feast." ^ 
 
 Yes, it is that illusive and imaginary morrow that 
 robs us of our peace ; it is the misgiving, the anxious 
 care, the dark foreboding. But when we put God our 
 Father in place of the morrow, and know that He 
 comprehends and sees all that we have need of, the 
 peace which passes all understanding settles down 
 upon our spirit, and steals into our eyes, and breathes 
 on our lips, and men perceive even in us why our 
 Father is called " the God of Peace." 
 
 The second thing which strikes us in those who have 
 learnt to make their boast in God rather than in the 
 morrow is the service which they render to their fellows. 
 This is not only because they are able to turn their 
 undivided attention to the duty which lies nearest, and 
 to do with all their heart what their hand finds to do, 
 but the very spirit of serenity in which they live is a 
 
 ' Prov. XV. 15. 
 
358 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 constant help and blessing to all who are around them. 
 It may have been given to you to come into contact 
 with such a soul; in his presence your restlessness 
 dies away, it seems as if your burning brow had been 
 touched with a soothing hand ; perhaps *' with half- 
 open eyes you were treading the borderland dim 'twixt 
 vice and virtue," and that quiet spirit seemed like a 
 clear shaft of the dawn revealing where you trod ; 
 perhaps you were heart-broken with a great sorrow, 
 and the restfulness and confidence of that strong soul 
 gave you an indefinable consolation, hope broke into 
 your heart, and even joy. In receiving that help from 
 what the man was rather than from what he gave, 
 you became aware that this was the highest service 
 that any human being can render to another. It is a 
 great thing to succour the physical and material suf- 
 ferings of men ; it is a greater to bring them clear 
 truths and to give them some stimulus and guidance 
 in the intellectual life ; but it is greatest of all to com- 
 municate spiritual sustenance and power, for that means 
 to bring souls into actual and conscious contact with 
 God. 
 
 One of the noblest examples of this service to 
 humanity is furnished in the life and the writings of 
 St. Paul. His personal presence became the new 
 creation of that ancient heathen civilisation, and count- 
 less individual souls were, through the inner life which 
 he presented, brought to a complete change and made 
 new creatures in Christ. His writings have been, ever 
 since he died, a constant source of life and strength to 
 many generations of men. He has been misunderstood, 
 *' the ignorant and unstedfast have wrested " what he 
 WTote, but none the less he has been to the Church a 
 
xxvii. 1,20, iS.| IJl'ING DAY BY DAY. .^59 
 
 perpetual regenerator, and, as a great writer^ of our 
 own day has declared, " The doctrine of Paul will 
 arise out of the tomb where for centuries it has lain 
 covered ; it will edify the Church of the future ; it will 
 have the consent of happier generations, the applause 
 of less superstitious ages." Now what is the secret 
 of this power? It is given in his own words, "For 
 to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." '^ He was 
 able to fling himself with that passionate temerity 
 into the present duty, he was able to preach the word 
 with that victorious vigour in season and out of season, 
 just because the whole burden of the unknown future 
 was rolled away from him, and he, more than any man 
 that ever lived, understood what it is to live just for 
 to-day. 
 
 Every Christian may possess the same secret ; it is 
 the open secret of the Sermon on the Mount ; as our 
 gracious Lord told us, we may be as the lilies o.f the 
 field and as the birds of the air, without anxiety or 
 misgiving, knowing that our Heavenly Father cares for 
 us. It is not given to us all to be great philanthropists, 
 great reformers, great preachers, but it is put within 
 the reach of all to render to others the sweet service of 
 abiding always in trustful and loving submission to 
 God's will, and of shedding upon all the light of our 
 peace. 
 
 And this leads us to notice on^ last Jcaturc of this 
 true spiritual life. It has an honour of its own, though 
 it is not an earthly honour ; it has a reward, though 
 it is not a material reward. " Whoso keepeth the fig 
 tree shall eat the fruit thereof, and he that waiteth on 
 
 Matthew Arnold. - Phil. i. 21. 
 
36o THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 his master eats of the honour." ^ That is a saying 
 which can only apply in a very modified degree to 
 earthly service and human masters. How many loyal 
 servants of kings have been deserted by their lords at 
 the critical moment, and left to eat the fruit of disgrace 
 and ignominy ! But the saying applies in its fulness to 
 our Master Christ and His service. Think of the Chris- 
 tian hfe under this simple figure ; it is like the careful 
 cultivation of the fruit tree. He is the Vine. Our sole 
 concern is to keep in touch with Him, to sit at His 
 feet, to watch for His fruit, to see that no other concern 
 disturbs the quiet relation of perfect loyalty and devo- 
 tion to Him. Our aim is not to do our own business 
 or seek our own ends, but to be sure that we are 
 always awake to His purposes and obedient to the 
 demands which He makes upon us. It is not ours to 
 reason why, but it is ours to do at all costs whatsoever 
 He bids us do to-day. We have nothing to do with 
 to-morrow ; we have no responsibility for the fruit, for 
 no fruit-bearing power hes in us. All we have to do 
 is to keep the fig tree. Now when we abide in this 
 concentrated and whole-hearted devotion to our Master, 
 — when for us to live is Christ, — then honour comes to 
 us unsought, but not unwelcome. The fruit of service 
 is to the taste of the true servant the highest honour 
 that he can imagine. We need no apocalyptic vision 
 to assure us. His word is enough, confirmed as it 
 is by a constant and growing experience. The ser- 
 vants of our Lord already stand before Him, holding 
 in their hands the talents which they have gained for 
 Him ; already they hear His gracious " Well done," 
 
 ^ Prov. xxvii. 1 8. 
 
xxvii. I, 20, iS.] LIVING DAY BY DAY. 361 
 
 and the sound of it is more musical in their ears than 
 all the acclamations of their fellow-creatures. This is 
 their honour ; what could they have more ? they are 
 counted one with Christ; they shared His travail, and 
 now they share His satisfaction and His joy. 
 
 And thus those who make their boast in God, and 
 do not boast of the morrow, find that the morrow itself 
 becomes clear to them in the light of His countenance ; 
 they do in a sense know what it will bring forth : it 
 will bring forth what they desire, for it will bring forth 
 their Father's will ; it will bring forth the victory and 
 the glory of Christ. " Henceforth ye shall see Him 
 coming in the clouds of heaven." Is not that enough ? 
 When our hearts have learnt to hanker only after God's 
 will, to desire only Christ's victory, they may boast 
 themselves even of to-morrow ; for to-morrow holds in 
 its bosom an assurance of blessing and joy. 
 
XXVIII. 
 
 AN ASPECT OF ATONEMENT. 
 
 " He that hideth /nD3p\ his transgressions shall not prosper ; but 
 whoso confesscth and forsaketh them shall obtain mercy. "^ — Prov, 
 xxviii. 13. 
 
 " Happy is the man that feareth alway ; but he that hardeneth his 
 heart shall fall into mischief." — Prov. xxviii. 14. 
 
 "The fear of the Lord tendeth to life/and he that hath it shall 
 abide satisfied. He shall not be visited with evil." — Prov. xix. 23. 
 
 " By mercy and truth iniquity is atoned for, and by the fear of the 
 Lord men depart from evil." — Prov, xvi. 6. 7^ 
 
 THE Hebrew word ("^5?) which is used for the 
 idea of atonement is one which originally signifies 
 io cover. Sin is a hideous sore, a shocking deformity, 
 which must be hidden from the eyes of men, and much 
 more from the holy eyes of God. Thus the Old Testa- 
 ment speaks about a Robe of Righteousness which is 
 to be thrown over the ulcerated and leprous body of 
 sin. Apart from this covering, the disease is seen 
 working out its sure and terrible results. '* A man 
 that is laden with the blood of any person shall flee 
 unto the pit : let no man stay him," ^ and though blood- 
 guiltiness appears to us the worst of sins, all sin is 
 alike in its issue ; every sinner may be seen by seeing 
 eyes '' fleeing unto the pit," and no man can stay him 
 
 ^ Prov. xxviii. 17. 
 
AN ASPECT OF ATONEMENT. 363 
 
 or deliver him. Or, to vary the image, the sinful man 
 is exposed to the violence of justice, which beats like 
 a storm upon all unprotected heads ; he needs to be 
 covered ; he needs some shelter, some hiding-place, or 
 he must be swept away. 
 
 But the objection which immediately occurs to us is 
 this : what is the use of covering sin if the sin itself 
 remains ? The disease is not cured because a decent 
 garment is drawn over the suffering part ; indeed, it is 
 not hard to conceive a case in which the covering might 
 aggravate the mischief. If the idea of covering is to be 
 of any service, it must be cleared from all misconception ; 
 there is a kind of hiding which may be ruinous, a 
 garment which may drive the disease inward and hasten 
 its deadly operation, a covert from the storm which 
 may crush and stifle the person whom it professes to 
 protect. '' He that covereth his transgressions," in that 
 way, " shall not prosper." Every attempt to conceal 
 from God or from man or from oneself that one is 
 diseased with sin is ineffectual : every lame excuse 
 which seeks to palliate the guilt ; every hypocritical 
 pretence that the thing done has not been done, or 
 that it is not what men usually suppose it to be ; every 
 ingenious argumentation which seeks to represent sin 
 as something other than sin, as a mere defect or taint 
 in the blood, as a hereditary and unavoidable weakness, 
 as an aberration of the mind for which one is not 
 responsible, or as a merely conventional and artificial 
 offence, — all such attempts at hiding must be failures, 
 "covering" of that kind can be no atonement. Quite 
 the reverse ; this trifling with conscience, this deluded 
 self-righteousness, is the worst possible aggravation of 
 the sin. Hidden in that way, though it be, as it were, 
 
364 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 in the bowels of the earth, sin becomes a poisonous gas, 
 more noxious for confinement, and Hable to break out 
 in awful and devastating explosions. 
 
 The covering of sin ^ which is spoken of in xvi. 6 is 
 of a very different and of a quite particular kind. Com- 
 bining this verse with the others at the head of the 
 chapter, we may observe that every effectual *' covering " 
 of sin in God's sight involves three elements, — con- 
 fession, forsaking, and a changed practice. 
 
 First, there is confession. This appears on the face 
 of it to be a paradox : the only way of covering sin is 
 to uncover it. But it is strictly true. We must make 
 a clean breast of it ; we must acknowledge its full 
 extent and enormity ; we must spare the patient ear of 
 God no detail of our guilt. The foul, explosive gases 
 must be let out into the open, since every attempt to 
 confine them increases their destructive power. The 
 running sore must be exposed to the Physician's eye, 
 since every rag put over it to hide it becomes steeped 
 in its defiling tides. It is true, confession is a painful 
 and a weary task : it is like removing a heap of dust 
 and refuse by spadefuls, — each bit as it is disturbed fills 
 the atmosphere with choking particles and noisome 
 smells ; worse and worse is revealed the farther we go. 
 We came to confess a single fault, and we found that 
 
 * It may be necessary to point out to the reader that in approach- 
 ing the subject of atonement from the standpoint of the book of 
 Proverbs, and merely in the expository treatment of the passages 
 before us, the so-called objective ground of atonement in the sacrifice 
 of Christ does not come into view, but its necessity becomes manifest 
 as each step in the exposition reveals how impossible it would be for 
 us, apart from the work of our Lord Jesus Christ, to realize those 
 conditions which are here laid down as indispensable to pardon and 
 acceptance with God. 
 
xxviii.;xix.;xvi.] AN ASPECT OF ATONEMENT. 365 
 
 it was but a broken sherd lying on the foul and pesti- 
 lential heap. Confession leads to confession, discovery 
 to discovery. It is terribly humiliating. "Am I then 
 so bad as this ? " is the horrified cry as each candid 
 admission shows only more and worse that must be 
 admitted. True confession can never be made into a 
 priest's ear, — to men we can only confess the wrongs 
 which we have done to men ; but true confession is the 
 awful tale of what we have done to God, against whom 
 only we have sinned and done evil in His sight. It 
 is sometimes urged that confession to a priest gives the 
 penitent relief: possibly, but it is a false relief; since 
 the eye of the priest is not omniscient, the sinner con- 
 fesses only what he chooses, brings the broken sherd, 
 and receives absolution for that in lieu of removing the 
 whole heap of abominations that underlie. When we 
 have gone as far as we can in laying ourselves bare to 
 man, there remain vast untraversed tracts of our life 
 and our mind which are reserved ; " Private road " is 
 written on all the approaches, and trespassers are in- 
 variably prosecuted. It is only to God that a real 
 confession can be made, because we know that to Him 
 all is necessarily evident; with Him no subterfuges 
 avail; He traverses those untraversed tracts; there are 
 no private roads from which He is excluded ; He knoweth 
 our thoughts afar off. 
 
 The first step in the *' covering " of sin is to realize 
 this. If our sins are to be really covered they must 
 first be laid bare ; we must frankly own that all things 
 are open to Him with whom we have to do; we must 
 get away from the priests and into the hands of the 
 High Priest ; we must abjure the confessional and 
 bring God Himself into the secret places of our hearts 
 
THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 to search us and tr}- us and see if there be any evil 
 wa}^ in us. The reserve, and the veilings, which every 
 individual cannot but maintain between himself and 
 all other individuals, must be torn away, in full and 
 absolute confession to God Himself. 
 
 Secondly. There is a confession, especiall}^ that 
 fostered by the habit of confessing to priests, w^hich is 
 unaccompanied b}^ any forsaking of the evil, or any 
 departing from iniquity in general. Many times have 
 men gone to their priests to receive absolution before- 
 hand for the sin which they intended to commit ; or they 
 have postponed their confession to their deathbeds, 
 when there will be, as they suppose, no further sins to 
 turn from. Confession of that kind is devoid of all 
 significance ; it covers no sins, it really only aggravates 
 them. No confession is of the least avail — and indeed 
 no real confession can be made to God at all — unless 
 the heart turns awa}' from the evil which is confessed, 
 and actually departs at once, so far as it knows and is 
 able, from all iniquity. 
 
 The glib language of confession has been and is a 
 deadly snare to multitudes. How easy it is to sa}^, or 
 even to musically chant, '^ We have done that we ought 
 not to have done ; we have left undone that which we 
 ought to have done." There is no pain in such a con- 
 fession if we once distinctly admit that it is a normal 
 and natural state of mind for us to be in, and that as 
 we say it to-da}^ so w^e shall say it to-morrow, and 
 again the next day to the end. But real confession is 
 so painful, and even heart-rending, because it is only of 
 value when w^e begin from that moment onwards " to 
 do what we ought to do, and to leave undone what we 
 ought not to do." It is well for us, perhaps, to confess 
 
:in.;xix.;xvi.] AN ASPECT OF ATONEMENT. 367 
 
 not so much sin in the abstract as our own particular 
 transgressions. Sin is too shadowy a monster for us 
 to definitely avoid and forsake ; like death, its kinsman, 
 — Death of whom Milton says : — 
 
 " What seemed his head 
 Tlie /ikeitess of a kingly crown had on." — 
 
 Sin is formless, vague, impalpable. But our own 
 individual transgressions can be fixed and defined ; 
 bringing ourselves to the test of the Law, we can 
 say particularly, " This practice of mine is condemned, 
 this habit of mine is sinful, this point of my character 
 is evil, this reticence, this indolence, this reluctance, 
 in confessing Christ and in serving His cause, is all 
 wrong ; " and then we can definitely turn our back 
 on the practice or the habit, we can distinctly get rid 
 of the blot in our character, we can fly this guilty 
 silence, rouse ourselves from our selfish indolence. 
 " We live to grow less like what we have been ; " 
 and it is this act of the will, this resolute purpose, 
 this loathing what once you loved, and turning to- 
 wards that which once you ignored, — it is, in a word, 
 the twin process of repentance and conversion, that 
 constitutes the second act in this " covering " of sin. 
 Not, of course, that in a moment the tyranny of old 
 habits can be broken, or the virtue of new activities 
 acquired; but ''the forsaking" and "the departing 
 from" are instantaneous exertions of the will. Zaccheus, 
 directly the Lord speaks to him, stands forth, and breaks 
 with his sins, renounces his extortions, resolving to 
 make amends for the past, and enters on a new line 
 of conduct, promising to give the half of his goods to 
 the poor. That is the essential seal of every true 
 
368 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 confession: "Whoso confesseth and forsaketh " his 
 transgressions. 
 
 Thirdly. This has led us to see that the confession 
 of sins and the conversion from them must issue in a 
 positive practice of mercy and truth, in order to make 
 the process of which we are speaking complete : " By 
 mercy and truth iniquity is atoned for." 
 
 It is this part of the '^ covering " which is so easily, 
 so frequently, and so fatally overlooked. It is sup- 
 posed that sins can be hidden without being removed, 
 and that the covering of what is called imputed 
 righteousness will serve instead of the covering of 
 actual righteousness. To argue against this view 
 theoretically is at the present day happily quite super- 
 fluous ; but it is still necessary to contend against its 
 subtle practical effects. There is no verity more 
 wholesome and more needed than the one contained in 
 this proverb. Sin may be summed up in two clauses : 
 it is the Want of Mercy and it is the Want of Truth. 
 All our illconduct to our fellow-men comes from the 
 cruelty and hardness of our selfish nature. Lust and 
 greed and ambition are the outcome of pitilessness ; 
 we injure the weak and ruin the helpless, and trample 
 on our competitors, and stamp out the poor ; our eye 
 does not pity. Again, all our offence against God is 
 insincerity or wilful lying. We are false to ourselves, 
 we are false to one another, and so we become false to 
 the unseen verities, and false to God. When a human 
 spirit denies the spiritual world and the spiritual Cause 
 which can alone account for it, is it not what Plato 
 used to call " a lie in the soul " ? It is the deep inward 
 and vital contradiction of consciousness ; it is equivalent 
 to saying, " I am not I," or, " That which is, is not," 
 
xxviii.;xix.;xvi.] AN ASPECT OF ATONEMENT. 369 
 
 Now when we have lived in sin, without mercy or 
 without truth, or without both ; when our Hfe up to a 
 certain point has been a flagrant selfishness of absolute 
 indifference to our fellows, or a flagrant lie denying 
 Him in whom we live and move and have our being ; 
 or when, as is so often the fact, the selfishness and 
 the falseness have gone together, an inextricable and 
 mutually dependent pair of evils, there can be no real 
 covering of the sin, unless selfishness gives place to 
 mercy and falsehood to truth. No verbal confession 
 can possibly avail, no turning from the past iniquities, 
 however genuine for the time, can have any permanent 
 significance, unless the change is a reahty, an obvious, 
 living, and working fact. If a man supposes that he 
 has become religious, but remains cruel and selfish, 
 pitiless, unmerciful to his fellow-men, depend upon it 
 that man's religion is vain ; the atonement in which he 
 trusts is a fiction, and avails no more than the heca- 
 tombs which Carthage offered to Melcarth availed to 
 gain a victory over Rome. If a man counts himself 
 saved, but remains radically untrue, false in his speech, 
 insincere in his professions, careless in his thought 
 about God, unjust in his opinions about men and the 
 world, he is certainly under a lamentable delusion. 
 Though he has, as he thinks, believed, he has not 
 believed to the saving of his soul ; though he has 
 undergone a change, he has changed from one lie to 
 another, and is in no way better off. It is by mercy 
 and truth that iniquity can be covered. 
 
 Now it will be generally admitted that we do not 
 take the course which has just been described unless 
 we have the fear of God before our eyes. Nothing but 
 the thought of His holiness and the awe which it 
 
 24 
 
370 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 inspires, and in some cases even, nothing but the 
 absolute terror of Him who can by no means clear the 
 guilty, moves the heart of man to confession, turns 
 him away from his sins, or inclines him to mercy and 
 truth. When the fear of God is removed from men's 
 eyes they not only continue in sin, but they quickly 
 come to believe that they have no sins to confess ; for 
 indeed when God is put out of the question that is in a 
 certain sense true. It is a mere fact of observation, 
 confirmed now by many changing experiences of 
 humanity, that it is " by the fear of the Lord men 
 depart from iniquity ; " and it is very significant to 
 notice how many of those who have entirely put away 
 the fear of the Lord from their own eyes have strongly 
 advocated keeping it before the eyes of others as 
 the most convenient and economical police resource.* 
 Many fervent free-thinkers are thankful that their 
 opinions are only held by a minority, and have no 
 wish to see the whole of society committed to the cult 
 which they would have us believe is all that their own 
 religious nature requires. 
 
 But supposing that any one of us is led into the 
 position of confession and conversion and amendment 
 which is described in these Proverbs : what follows ? 
 That person, says the text, ''shall obtain mercy." The 
 gracious Father immediately, unconditionally, and abso- 
 lutely pardons. This is the burden of the Old Testament, 
 and it is certainly not repealed by the New. '' If we 
 confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us 
 
 1 Voltaire rose once from the table at Ferney, where some 
 atheists were discussing their views. He said he could not let his 
 servants hear this talk, for they would rob and murder him if that 
 was true. 
 
xxviii.;xix.;xvi.] AN ASPECT OF ATONEMENT. 371 
 
 our sins." " Repent, and be converted," said St. Peter 
 
 to the crowd at Pentecost, " that your sins may be 
 blotted out." The New Testament is indeed on this 
 point the louder and the clearer echo of the Old. The 
 New Testament explains that saying which sounds so 
 strange in the mouth of a perfectly just and Holy God, 
 " I, even I, am He that blotteth out thy transgressions 
 for Mine own sake." ^ Human theologies have ima- 
 gined obstacles in the way, but God never admitted 
 them for a moment. Clear as the truth that the soul 
 which sins should die, was the promise that the soul 
 which turned from its sin, and did that which is righteous 
 in the eyes of the Lord, should live. No earthly father, 
 frankly and unconditionally forgiving his penitent, 
 sobbing child, could be so prompt, so eager as God. 
 While the prodigal is yet a great way off the Father 
 runs to meet him, and hides all his broken confessions 
 in the rush of His embrace. 
 
 But we hesitate to admit and rejoice in this grand 
 truth because of an uneasy fear that it is ignoring what 
 is called the Atonement of Christ. It is a very proper 
 hesitation, so long as we settle it within ourselves that 
 these sweet and beautiful utterances of the Old Testa- 
 ment cannot possibly be limited or reversed by that 
 Gospel which came to give effect and fulfilment to them. 
 Is not the solution of any difficulty that has occurred 
 to us to be found here ? The sacrifice and the work 
 of Christ create in the human soul those conditions 
 which we have been considering. He came to give 
 repentance unto Israel. It is His patient love in 
 bearing all our infirmities and sins. His mysterious 
 
 ' Isa. xliii. 25. 
 
372 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 self-offering on the Cross, that can effectually bring 
 us to confession, conversion, and amendment. Our 
 hearts may have been hard as the nether millstone, 
 but at the Cross they are broken and melted. No 
 stern denunciation of sin has ever moved our stubborn- 
 ness ; but as we realize what sin did to Him, when 
 He became sin for us, the fear of the Lord falls upon 
 us, we tremble, and cry, What shall we do to be 
 saved ? Then again, it is His perfect holiness, the 
 beauty of those '' stainless years He passed beneath 
 the Syrian blue," which wakes in us the hankering 
 desire for purity and goodness, and makes us turn 
 with a genuine disgust from the sins which must seem 
 so loathsome in His sight. His " neither do I condemn 
 thee ; go, and sin no more," gives us a more burning 
 hatred of sin than all the self-righteous censures and 
 condemnations of the Pharisees. It is in the pages of 
 the Gospels that we have first understood what concrete 
 goodness is; it has risen upon our night hke a clear, 
 liquid star, and the passion of it has entered into our 
 souls. And then, finally, it is the Risen Lord, unto 
 whom all power is given in heaven and in earth, that 
 can really transform our nature, flood our heart with 
 love, and fill our mind with truth, so that, in the 
 language of the proverb, mercy and truth may atone 
 for iniquity. 
 
 Is it not because Christ by His coming, by His 
 living, by His dying, by His risen power, produces in 
 the believer repentance and confession of sins, conver- 
 sion and departing from sin, regeneration and actual 
 holiness, that we say He has covered our sins ? What 
 meaning can be attached to Atonement apart from its 
 effects ? And in what other way, we may ask, could 
 
xxviii.;xix.;xvi.] AN ASPECT OF ATONEMENT. 373 
 
 He really give us such a covering or atonement, than 
 by creating in us a clean heart and renewing a right 
 spirit within us ? Sometimes, by a not unnatural 
 confusion of language, we speak of the sacrificial death 
 of our Lord as if it, apart from the effects produced in 
 the believing heart, were in itself the Atonement. But 
 that is not the language of the New Testament, which 
 employs the idea of reconciliation ^ where the Old 
 Testament would employ the idea of atoning ; and 
 clearly there can be no reconciliation accomplished 
 between man and God until, not only God is reconciled 
 to man, but man also is reconciled to God. And it is 
 when we come to observe more accurately the language 
 of the New Testament that this statement of the 
 Proverbs is seen to be no contradiction, but an antici- 
 pation, of it. Only the regenerate soul, that in which 
 the graces of the Christ-Hfe, mercy and truth, have 
 been implanted by Christ, is really reconciled with God, 
 i.e., effectually atoned. And though the framer of the 
 proverb had but a dim conception of the way in which 
 the Son of God would come to regenerate human hearts 
 and make them in harmony with the Father, yet he 
 saw clearly what Christians have too often overlooked, 
 and expressed tersely what theology has too often 
 obscured, that every effectual Atonement must include 
 in itself the actual, moral regeneration of the sinner. 
 
 ' See Rom. v. ii. This is the only place in the New Testament 
 where even in the Authorised Version the word "atonement" occurs. 
 But the contention of the text is not one of words, but of facts. 
 Whatever terms are used, the Gospels and the Epistles all agree in 
 identifying the salvation of God with an actual and practical righteous- 
 ness wrought out by the Holy Spirit in the lives of those who believe 
 in Christ as their Saviour. 
 
374 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 And further, whoever wrote the verse which stands 
 at the head of our chapter understood what many 
 preachers of the Gospel have left in perplexing obscurity, 
 that God would necessarily, from His very nature, 
 provide the offering and the sacrifice on the ground of 
 which every repentant soul that turns to Him could be 
 immediately and freely forgiven. 
 
XXIX. 
 
 THE NEED OF REVELATION. 
 
 "Where no vision is, a people casts off restraint, but he that 
 kcepeth the law is happy." — Prov. xxix. i8. 
 
 THE form of the proverb shows that we are not 
 to treat the vision and the law as opposite, but 
 rather as complementary terms. Visions are, it is true, 
 especially the mark of the prophets, and the law is 
 often confined in a special sense to the Pentateuch ; 
 but there is a much wider usage of the words, accord- 
 ing to which the two together express, with tolerable 
 completeness, what we mean by Revelation. The vision 
 means a perception of God and His ways, and is quite 
 as applicable to Moses as to Isaiah ; and, on the other 
 hand, the law covers all the distinct and articulate 
 instruction which God gives to His people in any of 
 His ways of self-communication. *' Come ye," says 
 Isaiah,^ "and let us go up to the mountain of the 
 Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob ; and He will 
 teach us of His ways, and we will walk in His paths : 
 for out of Zion shall go forth the law^ and the word 
 of the Lord from Jerusalem ; " where the whole context 
 shows that, not the Mosaic Law, but rather a new and 
 particular declaration of the Lord's will, is referred to. 
 
 ' Isa. ii. 3. 
 
376 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 But while the vision and the law are not to be 
 treated as opposites, it is possible to distinguish between 
 them. The vision is the actual contact between God 
 and the human spirit, which is the necessary condition 
 of any direct revelation ; the law is the recorded result 
 of such a revelation, either passed from mouth to 
 mouth by tradition, or written permanently in a book. 
 
 We may then a little amplify the proverb for the 
 sake of exposition : " Where there is no living reve- 
 lation, no perceived contact between man and God, 
 there the bonds which hold society together are relaxed 
 or broken ; but he that holds by the revelation that has 
 been given, obeying the law, so far as it has been 
 presented to him, happy is he." 
 
 Man has need of a revelation ; that is the assertion. 
 Society, as an ordered and happy body of men in 
 which each person is rightly subordinated to the whole, 
 and in which law, as distinct from individual caprice, 
 prevails, requires a revealed law. The light of nature 
 is good, but it is not sufficient. The common sense 
 of mankind is powerful, but not powerful enough. In 
 the absence of a real and valid declaration of God's 
 will times must come when the elemental passions of 
 human nature will break out with unrestrained violence, 
 the teachings of morality will be disputed, their authority 
 will be denied, and their yoke will be broken ; the 
 links which hold the state and the community together 
 will snap, and the slow growths of ages may disappear 
 in a moment. It is not difficult to show the truth 
 of this assertion from experience. Every people that 
 emerges from barbarism has a vision and a law ; a 
 certain revelation which forms the foundation, the 
 sanction, the bond of its corporate existence. When 
 
xxix. iS.] THE NEED OE REVELATION. 377 
 
 you can point to a tribe or a group of tribes that know 
 nothing of God, and therefore have no idea of revelation, 
 you at once assure us that the people are sunk in a 
 hopeless savagery. We are, it is true, inclined to deny 
 the term revelation to those systems of religion which 
 lie outside of the Bible, but it is difficult to justify such 
 a contraction of view. God has not left Himself any- 
 where without a witness. The more closely we examine 
 the multitudinous religions of the earth, the more 
 clearly does it appear that each of them had at its 
 origin a definite, however limited, revelation. The idea 
 of One all-powerful, good, and wise, God is found at 
 the beginning of each faith that can be traced back far 
 enough, and the actual condition of heathen systems 
 always suggests a decline from a higher and a purer 
 religion. We may say, then, with much plausibility, 
 that no lasting and beneficial form of human society 
 has ever existed apart from a vision and a law. 
 
 But leaving the wide field of comparative religions, 
 do we not see an illustration of the truth of the text in 
 the European countries which are more subject to our 
 observation ? In proportion as a people loses its faith 
 in revelation it falls into decay. This was made mani- 
 fest in the experience of the French Revolution. When 
 the Jacobins had emancipated themselves from the idea 
 of God, and had come out into the clear light of 
 reason, so terribly did they '' cast off restraint " that 
 their own leader, Robespierre, endeavoured with a 
 feverish haste to restore the recognition of God, 
 assuming himself the position of high pontiff to the 
 Supreme Being. The nearest approach that the world 
 has probably ever seen to a government founded on 
 Atheism was this government of the French Revolu- 
 
378 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 tion, and a more striking commentary on this text 
 could hardly be desired. 
 
 But the need of a revelation can be apprehended, 
 apart from all appeals to history, by simply studying 
 the nature of the spirit of man. Man must have an 
 object of worship, and that object must be such as to 
 command his worship. Auguste Comte thought to 
 satisfy this need of the heart by suggesting Humanity 
 as the Grand Etre^ but Humanity was and is nothing 
 but an abstraction. Feeling this himself, he recom- 
 mended the worship of woman, and he prostrated his 
 heart before Clotilde de Vaux ; but sacred and beauti- 
 ful as a man's love of a woman may be, it is no 
 substitute for worship. We must have quite another 
 than ourselves and our own kind, if our hearts are to 
 find their rest. We must have an Almighty, an 
 Infinite ; we must have one who is Love. Until his 
 spirit is worshipping, man cannot realize himself, or 
 attain the height of his intended stature. 
 
 Again, man must have an assurance of his own 
 immortality. While he believes himself to be mortal, 
 a creature of a day, and that an uncertain day, it is 
 impossible for him to rise much above the level of 
 other ephemeral things. His pursuits must be Hmited, 
 and his aims must be confined. His affections must be 
 chilled by the shadow of death, and in proportion as 
 he has nobly striven and tenderly loved, his later years 
 must be plunged in hopeless gloom, because his efforts 
 have been ineffectual and his beloved have gone from 
 him. No juggling with terms ; no half-poetic raptures 
 about ^'the choir invisible," can meet the mighty 
 craving of the human heart. Man must be immortal, or 
 he is not man. " He thinks he was not made to die." 
 
xxix. iS.] THE NEED OE REVELATION. 379 
 
 But to meet these demands of the spirit what, apart 
 from revelation, can avail ? That metaphysics is futile 
 practically all men are agreed. Only the philosopher 
 can follow the dialectics which are to prove the exist- 
 ence of God and the immortality of the soul. And 
 even the philosopher seems to grow pale and wizened 
 in the process of his demonstration, and wins at last 
 a vantage-ground of cold conviction, to find that there 
 is no comfort there. But can science offer the assur- 
 ance which philosophy was unable to give ? Let us 
 listen to the conclusion of a scientific writer on this 
 subject, one who has lost his hold on revelation and 
 can realize a little of what he has lost. 
 
 "The highest and most consoling beliefs of the human 
 mind," he says, " are to a great extent bound up with the 
 Christian religion. If we ask ourselves frankly how much, 
 apart from this religion, would remain of faith in a God, 
 and in a future state of existence, the answer must be, very 
 little. Science traces everything back to primeval atoms 
 and germs, and there it leaves us. How came these atoms 
 and energies there, from which this wonderful universe of 
 worlds has been evolved by inevitable laws ? \\niat are 
 they in their essence, and what do they mean ? The only 
 answer is. It is unknowable. It is " behind the veil," 
 and may be anything. Spirit may be matter, matter may 
 be spirit. We have no faculties by which we can even 
 form a conception, from any discoveries of the telescope 
 or microscope, from any experiments in the laboratory, or 
 from any facts susceptible of real human knowledge, of 
 what may be the first cause underlying all these phenomena. 
 
 " In like manner we can already, to a great extent, and 
 probably in a short time shall be able to the fullest extent 
 to trace the whole development of life from the lowest to 
 the highest ; from protoplasm, through monera, infusoria, 
 
38o THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 mollusca, vertebrata, fish, reptile and mammal, up to man ; 
 and the individual man from the microscopic egg, through 
 the various stages of its evolution up to birth, childhood, 
 maturity, decline, and death. We can trace also the 
 development of the human race through enormous periods 
 of time, from the modest beginnings up to its present level 
 of civilisation, and show how arts, languages, morals, and 
 religions have been evolved gradually by human laws from 
 primitive elements, many of w^hich are common in their 
 ultimate form to man and the animal creation. 
 
 " But here also science stops. Science can give no 
 account of how these germs and nucleated cells, endowed 
 with these marvellous capacities for evolution, came into 
 existence, or got their intrinsic powers. Nor can science 
 enable us to form the remotest conception of what will 
 become of life, consciousness, and conscience, when the 
 material conditions with which they are always associated, 
 while within human experience, have been dissolved by 
 death, and no longer exist. We know as little, in the way 
 of accurate and demonstrable knowledge, of our condition 
 after death as we do of our existence — if we had an exist- 
 ence — before birth." ^ 
 
 Science frankly confesses that she can tell us nothing 
 of the things which it most concerns us to know. On 
 those things she is no farther advanced than she was 
 in the days of Aristotle. Never do we feel how much 
 men need a revelation so vividly as when we have 
 grasped the first principles of such a great scientific 
 thinker as Mr. Herbert Spencer, and realize how far 
 he is able to take us and how soon he has to leave us. 
 How does it meet the craving of the soul for God to 
 
 * " Modern Science and Modern Thought " (pp. 289, 290), by S. 
 Laing. Chapman & Hall: 1890. 
 
xxix. iS.] THE NEED OF REVELATION. 381 
 
 show us the slow stages by which man became a Hving 
 soul ? As well might you try to satisfy the musician's 
 ear by telling him how his art had grown from the 
 primitive tom-tom of the savage. How can it help the 
 life to be lived wisely, lovingly, and well, in the midst 
 of the uncertainty of the world, and confronted by the 
 certainty of death, to be told that our physical structure 
 is united by a thousand immediate links with that of 
 other mammals. Such a fact is insignificant ; the 
 supreme fact is that we are not like other mammals in 
 the most important respects ; we have hearts that long 
 and yearn, minds which enquire and question — they 
 have not ; we want God, our heart and our flesh 
 crieth out for the living God, and we demand an 
 eternal life — tJiey do not. 
 
 How can science pretend that what she does not 
 know is not knowledge, while she has to confess that 
 she does not know precisely the things which it most 
 concerns us as men to know ? How can the spirit of 
 man be content with the husks which she gives him to 
 eat, when his whole nature craves the kernel ? What 
 probability is there that a man will close his eyes to 
 the sun because another person, very clever and in- 
 dustrious, has shut himself up in a dark cellar, and tries 
 to persuade him that his candle is all the light he may 
 legitimately use, and what cannot be seen by his candle 
 is not real ? 
 
 No, science may not prove revelation, but she proves 
 our need of it. She does her utmost, she widens her 
 borders, she is more earnest, more accurate, more 
 informed, more efficacious than ever ; but she shows 
 that what man most wants she cannot give, — she bids 
 him go elsewhere. 
 
382 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS, 
 
 But now it may be said : It is one thing to prove 
 that man needs a revelation, and another to show that 
 a revelation has been given. That is perfectly true, 
 and this is not the place to adduce all the evidence which 
 might prove that revelation is a reality ; but what an 
 advance we have made on the cold, self-satisfied deism 
 of the eighteenth century, which maintained that the 
 light of nature was enough, and revelation was quite 
 superfluous, when the truest and most candid voices 
 of science are declaring with such growing clearness 
 that for the knowledge which revelation professes to 
 give, revelation, and revelation alone, will suffice ! 
 
 We Christians believe that we have a revelation, and 
 we find that it suffices. It gives us precisely those 
 assurances about God and about the soul without 
 which we falter, grow bewildered, and begin to 
 despond. We have a vision and a law. Our Bible 
 is the record of the ever-widening, ever-clearing vision 
 of God. The power and authority of the vision seem 
 to be the more convincing, just because we are per- 
 mitted to see the process of its development. Here 
 we are able to stand with the seer and see, not the 
 long seonian stages of creation which science has been 
 painfully tracking out in these later days, but the 
 supreme fact, which science professes herself unable 
 to see, that God was the Author of it all. Here we 
 are able to see the first imperfect conception of God 
 which came in vision and in thought to the patriarch 
 or sheikh in the earliest dawn of civilisation. Here 
 we can observe the conceptions clearing, through 
 Moses, through the Psalmists, through the Prophets, 
 until at last we have a vision of God in the person of 
 His Son, who is the brightness of the Father's glory, 
 
xxix. i8.] THE NEED OF REVELATION. 383 
 
 the express image of His countenance. We see that 
 He, the unseen Creator, is Love. 
 
 Our Bible, too, is the record of a law, — a law of 
 human conduct, the will of God as applied to earthly 
 life. At first the law is confined to a few primitive 
 practices and outward observances ; then it grows in 
 perplexity and multiplication of details ; and only after 
 a long course of discipline, of effort and apparent 
 failure, of teaching and deliberate disobedience, is the 
 law laid bare to its very roots, and presented in the 
 simplified and self-evidencing form of the Sermon on 
 the Mount and the apostolic precepts. 
 
 It is not necessary to start with any particular 
 theory about the Bible, any more than it is necessary 
 to know the substance of the sun before we can w^arm 
 ourselves in his beams. It is not necessary to look for 
 scientific accuracy in the histories and treatises through 
 which the vision and the law are communicated to us. 
 We know that the vessels are earthen, and the pre- 
 supposition all through is that the light was only 
 growing from the glimmer of the dawn up to the 
 perfect day. But we know, we are persuaded, that 
 here, to seeing eyes and humble hearts, is the revelation 
 of God and of His will. 
 
 Nor is it only in the Bible that God speaks to us. 
 There have been times in the history of Christendom — 
 such times as the middle of the eighteenth century — 
 when though the Bible was in men's hands, it seemed 
 to be almost a dead letter. " There was no vision, and 
 the people cast off restraint." It is by living men and 
 women to whom He grants visions and reveals truths, 
 that God maintains the purity and power of His revela- 
 tion to us. He came in vision to Fox and the early 
 
384 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 Friends, to Zinzendorf and the early Moravians, to 
 Wesley and the early Methodists. Seldom does a 
 generation pass but some seers are sent to make the 
 Word of God a living influence to their age. The 
 vision is not always unmixed v^^ith human error, and 
 when it ceases to be living it may become obstructive, 
 a cause of paralysis rather than of progress. But 
 Augustine and Jerome, Benedict and Leo, Francis and 
 Dominic, Luther and Calvin, Ignatius Loyola and 
 Xavier, Fenelon and Madame Guyon, Jonathan Edwards 
 and Channing, Robertson and Maurice, Erskine and 
 MacLeod Campbell, are but examples of God's method 
 all down the Christian ages. The vision comes pure 
 and fresh as if straight from the presence of God. 
 Traditionalism crumbles away. Doubt retreats like a 
 phantom of the night. Mighty moral revolutions and 
 spiritual awakenings are accomplished by the means 
 of His chosen ones. And it should be our desire 
 and our joy to recognise and welcome these seers 
 of God. 
 
 "He that keepeth the law, happy is he." It is a 
 mournful thing to be without a revelation, and to grope 
 in darkness at midday ; to hold one's mind in melan- 
 choly suspense, uncertain about God, about His will, 
 about the life eternal. But it is better to have no re- 
 velation than to have it and disregard it. Honest doubt 
 is full of necessary sorrow, but to believe and not to 
 obey is the road to inevitable ruin.^ '^ He that keepeth " 
 
 ' Cf. Prov. xxviii. 4, 9 : — 
 
 " They that forsake the law praise the wicked ; 
 But such as keep the law contend with them. 
 He that turneth away his ear from hearing the law 
 Even his prayer is an abomination." 
 
xxix. iS.] THE NEED OF REVELATION. 385 
 
 — yes, he that looks into revelation, not for curiosity, 
 but for a law by which to live ; who listens to the wise 
 precepts, not in order to exclaim, " How wise they 
 are ! " but in order to act on them. 
 
 There are many professing Christians who are con- 
 stantly plunged in gloom. Unbelievers may point the 
 finger at them, and say, " They believe in God, in 
 salvation, and in heaven, but see what an effect it has 
 on them. Do they really believe ? " Oh, yes, they 
 really believe, but they do not obey ; and no amount 
 of faith brings any lasting happiness apart from 
 obedience. The law requires us to love God, to love 
 men ; it requires us to abstain from all appearance of 
 evil, to touch not the unclean thing ; it bids us love 
 not the world, it tells us how impossible the double 
 service of God and mammon is. Now though we believe 
 it all it can give us nothing but pain unless we live up 
 to it. If there is a vision and we shut our eyes to it, 
 if there is a law and we turn away from it, woe unto 
 us ! But if we receive the vision, if we loyally and 
 earnestly keep the law, the world cannot fathom the 
 depth of our peace, nor rise to the height of our joy. 
 
 25 
 
XXX. 
 
 THE WORDS OF AGUR. 
 
 The rendering of the first verse of this chapter is very uncertain. 
 Without attempting to discuss the many conjectural emendations, 
 we must briefly indicate the view which is here taken. A sHght 
 alteration in the pointing O^ ''O'^N? instead of the Masoretic reading 
 T'ts'^rr'N?) changes the proper name Ithiel into a significant verb ; 
 and another slight change P?^?) for /p^Sl) gives us another verb in 
 the place of Ucal. To remove the difficulty of the word "oracle," a 
 difficulty which arises from the fact that the chapter which follows 
 is not a prophetic utterance of the kind to which that word might be 
 applied, it is necessary, with Gratz, to make a more serious change, and 
 to read P^^-'J^H for XtJ'^H. And to explain the word "113 H, which occurs 
 in a similar connection in Numb. xxiv. 3, 15, and 2 Sam. xxiii. I, 
 we must suppose that some relative clause defining the nature of 
 " the man " has been dropped. The great uncertainty of the text is 
 witnessed by the LXX., who place this passage after xxiv. 23, and 
 give a rendering which has very little resemblance to our present 
 Hebrew text. It is highly probable, both from the subject matter and 
 from the numerical arrangements, which are thoroughly Rabbinical, 
 that this chapter and chap. xxxi. are of late origin, and represent the 
 last phase of the proverbial literature of Israel in the daj^s after the 
 return from the Exile. If this be so, the obscurity and uncertainty 
 are characteristic of an artificial period of literature, and of a decay 
 in literary taste. Adopting, then, the alterations which have been 
 mentioned, we obtain the following result : — 
 
 " The words of Agur the son of Jakeh, the proverb-writer : 
 The utterance of the man [who has questioned and thought] : I 
 have wearied after God, I have wearied after God, and am faint, for 
 I am too stupid for a man, and am without reason, and I have not 
 learned wisdom, nor have I knowledge of the All Holy," etc. 
 
 THIS chapter is full of curious interest. It is a col- 
 lection of sayings which are apparently connected 
 only by the circumstance that they were attributed to 
 
THE WORDS OF AGUR. 3S7 
 
 one person, Agur, the son of Jakeh. Whoever Agur 
 was, he had a certain marked individuality ; he combined 
 meditation on lofty questions of theology with a sound 
 theory of practical life. He was able to give valuable 
 admonitions about conduct. But his characteristic 
 delight was to group together in quatrains visible illus- 
 trations of selected qualities or ideas. 
 
 It may be well for us to glance at these picturesque 
 groups, and then to return to the more philosophical 
 and religious sentiments with which the chapter 
 opens. 
 
 " Slander not a servant to his master," says Agur, 
 '' lest the servant curse thee, and thou be held guilty." 
 Even underlings have their rights; the Lord makes 
 their cause His own, and a curse from them falls with 
 as much weight on a slanderer as the words of more 
 influential people. It is one of the surest tests of a 
 man's character to see how he treats servants ; if he 
 is uniformly courteous, considerate, just, and generous 
 in his treatment of them, we may safely infer that he 
 is a noble character ; if he is haughty, domineering, 
 revengeful, and malicious to them, we need not attach 
 much importance to his pleasing manners and plausible 
 services to those whom he considers his equals. 
 
 Now follow two of these singular quatrains. There 
 are four kinds of men pointed out, and held up, not 
 to our abhorrence, that is unnecessary, but simply to 
 our observation : the unfilial, the self-righteous, the 
 haughty, and the rapacious who devour the poor and 
 the needy. It is not necessary to say anything about 
 these persons. Their doom is stamped on their brows ; 
 to name them is to condemn them ; to describe them 
 is to write out their sentence. 
 
388 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 Again, there are four things which Hke the blood- 
 sucking horse-leech are always insatiable. The vampire 
 has her daughters in the earth ; it is, as Professor 
 Cheyne says, "a quasi-mythical expression." These 
 daughters are two, nay, they are three, nay, they are 
 four ; and they are, as it were, the representatives of 
 all creation : ^ Sheol, the invisible world, which draws 
 into itself the countless generations of the dead ; the 
 generative principle, which never wearies of producing 
 new generations of the Hving ; the earth, which is for 
 ever absorbing the cadent waters of heaven ; and the 
 fire, which will consume all the fuel that is given to it. 
 
 Now follows a further comment upon unfihal conduct : 
 the eye is regarded as the instrument by which a son 
 shows his feelings to his parents ; he has not perhaps 
 gone the length of uttering a curse against them, still 
 less of raising his hand to ill-treat them, but his eye 
 flashes derision upon his father, and by its haughty 
 obstinacy declares that it will not obey his mother. 
 The offending member shall be picked out by the 
 clamorous ravens, and eaten by the young of the 
 soaring eagle. 
 
 Next we have four more quatrains. First, there are 
 the four wonders which baffle Agur's understanding; 
 wonders which are comprehensible only to God, as the 
 Vedic hymn says, — 
 
 " The path of ships across the sea, 
 The soaring eagle's flight he knows." 
 
 ' Cf. the Sanscrit Hitopadesa, " Fire is never satisfied with fuel, 
 nor the ocean with rivers, nor death with all creatures, nor bright- 
 eyed women with men ; " also the Arabic proverb, "Three things are 
 of three never full, women's womb of man, wood of fire, and earth of 
 
THE WORDS OF AGUR. 389 
 
 The wonder seems to be in the reality and power of 
 impalpable things. How little of all that passes in the 
 universe is open to observation, or leaves a track behind. 
 The eagle mounts through the air as if he marched on 
 a solid beaten road ; the serpent, without limbs, glides 
 over the smooth rock where feet would slip, and leaves 
 no trace behind ; the ship ploughs the deep, and over 
 trackless waters follows her track which is invisible ; a 
 man and a maid meet, swift glances pass, hearts blend, 
 and that is done which can never be undone ; or on 
 the evil side, the bad woman follows her illicit and 
 hidden courses, while to all appearance she is a faithful 
 wife and mother. 
 
 Secondly, there are four human conditions which are 
 intolerable to society, viz., an essentially servile spirit 
 put into the place of authority ; a fool who, instead 01 
 being corrected, is confirmed in his folly by prosperity ; 
 a marriage where the wife is hated ; and a slave girl 
 in the position which Hagar occupied with relation to 
 Sarah her mistress. 
 
 Thirdl}^, there are four kinds of animals which 
 illustrate that size is not necessarily greatness, and 
 that it is possible to be insignificant and yet wise. 
 The tiny ants are a model of intelligent mutual co- 
 operation and prudent thrift. The little jerboas seem 
 helpless enough, but they are sensible in the choice of 
 their homes, for they dwell securely in rocky fastnesses. 
 The locusts seem as weak and inoffensive as insects 
 can be, yet they form a mighty army, ordered in 
 battle array ; " they run like mighty men ; they climb 
 the wall like men of war; and they march every one 
 in his ways, and they break not their ranks." ^ The 
 
 ' Joel ii. 7. 
 
390 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 lizard seems but a plebeian creature ; you can seize it 
 with your hands ; it is defenceless and devoid of natural 
 capabilities ; and yet with its swift crawlings and tire- 
 less dartings it will find its way into kings' palaces, 
 where greater and stronger creatures cannot enter. 
 
 Lastly, there are four things which impress one with 
 their stateliness of motion ; the lion, the creature that 
 is girt in the loins, whether a v/ar-horse or a greyhound, 
 the he-goat, and — surely with a little touch of satire — 
 the king when his army is with him. 
 
 Then the collection of Agur's sayings ends with a 
 wise and picturesque word of counsel to exercise a 
 strong restraint over our rising passions. 
 
 But now we may turn back to the passage with which 
 the chapter opens. Here is the cry of one who has 
 sought to find out God. It is an old and a mournful 
 cry. Many have emitted it from the beginning ; many 
 utter it now. But few have spoken with more pathetic 
 humility, few have made us feel with so much force 
 the solemnity and the difficulty of the question as this 
 unknown Agur. We see a brow wrinkled with thought, 
 eyes dimmed with long and close observation ; it is not 
 the boor or the sot that makes this humiliating con- 
 fession ; it is the earnest thinker, the eager enquirer. 
 He has meditated on the wonderful facts of the physical 
 world ; he has watched the great trees sway under the 
 touch of the invisible wind, and the waves rise up in 
 their might, lashing the shores, but vainly essaying to 
 pass their appointed boundaries ; he has considered 
 the vast expanse of the earth, and enquired, on what 
 foundations does it rest, and where are its limits? 
 He cannot question the ''eternal power and divinity" 
 which can alone account for this ordered universe. 
 
THE iroiws OF agur. 391 
 
 lie has not, like many thinkers ancient and modern, 
 " dropped a plummet down the broad deep universe, 
 and cried, No God." He knows that there is a God; 
 there must be an Intelligence able to conceive, 
 coupled with a power able to realize, this mighty 
 mechanism. But who is it ? What is His name or 
 His Son's name ? Here are the footsteps of the Creator, 
 but where is the Creator Himself? Here are the signs 
 of His working on every hand. There is an invisible 
 power that ascends and descends on the earth by stair- 
 cases unseen. Who is He ? These careering winds, 
 before which we are powerless, obey some control ; 
 sometimes they are '' upgathered like sleeping flowers ; " 
 who is it that holds them then ? These great waters 
 sway to and fro, or they pour in ceaseless currents 
 from their fountains, or they gather in the quiet hollows 
 of the hills ; but who is it that appoints the ocean, and 
 the river, and the lake ? Who feeds them all, and 
 restrains them all ? Whose is the garment which holds 
 them as a v/oman carries a pitcher lashed to her back 
 in the fold of her dress ? The earth is no phantom, 
 no mirage, it is solid and established ; but who gave 
 to matter its reality, and in the ceaseless flux of the 
 atoms fixed the abiding forms, and ordered the appro- 
 priate relations ? Ah ! what is His name ? Has He 
 a son ? Is man, for instance. His son ? Or does the 
 idea of the Eternal and Invisible God imply also an 
 Eternal Son, a Being one with Him, yet separable, the 
 object of His love, the instrument of His working, 
 the beginning of His creation ? Who is He ? That 
 He is holy seems an inevitable conclusion from the 
 fact that we know what holiness is, and recognise its 
 sovereignty. For how, in thinking of the mighty 
 
392 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 Being who made all things, dare I give Him a lower 
 attribute than that which I can give to my fellow-men ? 
 How dare I withhold from Him that which I know of 
 the Highest and the Best ? But though I know that 
 He is holy, the All Holy One I do not know. My 
 weak and sinful nature has glimpses of Him, but no 
 steady visions. I lose Him in the confused welter of 
 things. I catch the gleam of His face in the hues of 
 the rainbow and in the glow of the eternal hills ; but 
 I lose it when I strive to follow among the angry 
 gatherings of the stormclouds, in the threatening 
 crash of the thunder, the roar of the avalanche, and the 
 rent ruins of the earthquake. 
 
 And the man, considering all things, questioning, 
 seeking, exclaims, " I am weary and faint." The 
 splendours of God haunt his imagination, the sanctities 
 of God fill his conscience with awe, the thoughts of 
 God lie as presuppositions behind all his thinking. 
 But he has not understanding ; baffled and foiled and 
 helpless, he says that he is too brutish to be a man. 
 Surely a man would know God ; surely he must be but 
 one of the soulless creatures, dust of the dust, for he 
 has not the knowledge of the Holy One. 
 
 To this impetuous hail of questions an answer comes. 
 For indeed in the fact that the questions are put already 
 the answer lies. In the humble cry that he is too 
 stupid to be a man is already the clearest proof that he 
 is raised incalculably above the brute. 
 
 But who is it that offers the answer in vv. 5-9 ? It 
 would seem as if Agur himself has suggested the ques- 
 tion — a question borrowed probably from some noble 
 heathen thinker ; and now he proceeds to meet the 
 wild and despairing outcry with the results of his own 
 
THE IVORDS OF AGUR. 393 
 
 reflection. He does not attempt the answer on the 
 Hnes of natural reHgion. His answer in effect is this : 
 You cannot know God, you cannot by searching find 
 Him unless He reveals Himself; His revelation must 
 come as an articulate and intelligible word. As the 
 Psalm sa^'s — for it seems to be a quotation from Psalm 
 xviii. 30 — " Every word of God is tried : He is a 
 shield unto them that trust in Him." Agur appeals to 
 a written revelation, a revelation which is complete and 
 rounded, and to which no further addition may be made 
 (ver. 6). It was probably the time when Ezra the scribe 
 had gathered together the Law and the Psalms and the 
 Prophets, and had formed the first scriptural canon. 
 Since then a great deal has been added to the canon, 
 these words of Agur among the rest, but the assertion 
 remains essentially true. Our knowledge of God de- 
 pends on His self-revelation, and the method of that 
 revelation is to speak, through the lips of God-possessed 
 men, words which are tried by experience and proved 
 by the living faith of those who trust in God. '* I am 
 that I am " has spoken to men, and to Him, the 
 Eternally-existent, have they ascribed the visible uni- 
 verse. "The God of Israel" has spoken to men, and 
 they have learnt therefore to trace His hand in history 
 and in the development of human affairs. The Holy 
 One has in prophets and poets spoken to men, and 
 they have become aware that all goodness comes from 
 Him, and all evil is hateful to Him. And lastly. His 
 Son has spoken to men, and has declared Him in a way 
 that never could have been dreamed, has shown them 
 the Father, has revealed that new unutterable Name. 
 
 The answer to the great cry of the human heart, the 
 wearied, fainting human heart, is given only in revela- 
 
394 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 tion, in the tried word of God, and completely only in 
 the Word of God that was made flesh. The proof of 
 that revelation is furnished to all those who trust in 
 the God so revealed, for He becomes a shield to them ; 
 they abide under the shadow of His realized presence. 
 It is not possible to add unto the words of God ; our 
 speculations lead us farther, but they only lead us into 
 error ; and by them we incur His reproof, and our 
 fictions become disastrously exposed. The answer to 
 philosophy is in revelation, and they who do not accept 
 the revealed answer are left asking eternally the same 
 weary and hopeless question, '' What is his name, and 
 what is his son's name ? " 
 
 And now, with a quaint and practical homeliness 
 which is very suggestive, Agur notices two conditions, 
 which he has evidently observed to be necessary if we 
 are to find the answer which revelation gives to the 
 enquiry of the human heart after God. First of all we 
 must be rid of vanity and lies. How true this is ! 
 We may hold the Bible in our hands, but while our 
 hearts are void of seriousness and sincerity we can 
 find nothing in it, certainly no word of God. A vain 
 person and an untruthful person can receive no 
 genuine revelation ; they may believe, or think that 
 they believe, the current religious dogmas, and they 
 may be able to give a verbal answer to the question 
 which we have been considering, but they cannot have 
 the knowledge of the Holy One. More than half the 
 godlessness of men is due simply to want of earnest- 
 ness ; they are triflers on the earth, they are painted 
 bubbles, which burst if any solid thing touches them ; 
 they are drifting vapours and exhalations, which pass 
 away and leave not a wrack behind. But there are 
 
THE IVORDS OF AGUR. 395 
 
 many men who are serious enough in their search for 
 knowledge, and yet arc vitiated through and through 
 by a radical want of truthfulness. They are prepared 
 for facts, but only facts of a certain sort. They want 
 to know God, but only on condition that He shall not 
 be supernatural. They want to study the truths of 
 the spiritual world, but only on condition that the 
 spiritual shall be material. O remove far from me 
 vanities and lies ! 
 
 Then there is a second condition desirable for the due 
 appreciation of religious truth, a social and econo- 
 mical condition. Agur might have known our modern 
 world with its terrible extremes of wealth and poverty. 
 He perceived how hard it is for the rich to enter the 
 kingdom of heaven ; and, on the other hand, how prob- 
 able it is that hungry men will be seduced into stealing 
 and betrayed into blasphemy. That there is much 
 truth in this view w^e may easily satisfy ourselves by 
 considering the wealthy classes in England, whose 
 question, urged through all their pomp and ceremonial 
 of heartless worship, is practically, " Who is the Lord ? " 
 and by then looking at the eight hundred thousand 
 paupers of England, amongst whom religion is practi- 
 cally unknown except as a device for securing food. 
 
 And when we have duly weighed this saying of 
 Agur's, we may come to see that among all the pressing 
 religious and spiritual problems of our day, this also 
 must be entertained and solved, How to secure a more 
 equable distribution of wealth, so that the extremes of 
 wealth and poverty should disappear, and all should be 
 fed with the food that is needful for them. 
 
XXXI. 
 
 A GOOD WOMAN. 
 
 " O woman-hearts, that keep the da3'S of old 
 In living memory, ca-nyon stand back 
 When Christ calls ? Shall the heavenly Master lack 
 The serving love, which is your life's fine gold ? 
 
 " Do you forget the hand which placed the crown 
 Of happy freedom on the woman's head, 
 And took her from the dying and the dead, 
 Lifting the wounded soul long trodden down ? 
 
 " Do you forget who bade the morning break. 
 And snapped the fetters of the iron years ? 
 The Saviour calls for service : from your fears 
 Rise girt with faith, and work for His dear sake ! 
 
 "And He will touch the trembling lips with fire, — 
 O let us hasten, lest we come too late ! 
 And all shall work; if some must ' stand and wait,' 
 Be theirs that wrestUng prayer that will not tire." 
 
 R. O. 
 
 THE last chapter of the book of Proverbs consists 
 of two distinct compositions, and the only con- 
 nection between them is to be found in their date. 
 The words of King Lemuel, " a sa3dng which his mother 
 taught him," ^ and the description of a good woman/ 
 must both be referred to a very late epoch of Hebrew 
 literature. The former contains several Aramaic words ^ 
 
 ^ Prov. xxxi, 1-9. - Prov. xxxi, 10-31. 
 
 ^ E.g., 13 ver. 2 and P^?^ ver. 3 : cf. the strange expressions 
 '•:r\^3-'?3 and ?]'l^q '^^h'^ in vv. 5,8. 
 
A GOOD WOMAN. 397 
 
 and expressions which connect it with the period 
 of the exile ; and the latter is an alphabetical acrostic, 
 i.e., the verses begin with the successive letters of the 
 alphabet; and this artificial mode of composition, which 
 appears also in some of the Psalms, is sufficient of 
 itself to indicate the last period of the literature, when 
 the Rabbinical methods were coming into use. 
 
 About the words of Lemuel, of whom it may be 
 observed we know nothing at all, enough has been 
 said in previous lectures. We need here only notice 
 that the mother's influence in the education of her son, 
 even though that son is to be a king, comes very 
 suitably as the introduction to the beautiful description 
 of the good woman with which the chapter closes. It 
 is said that the rnother of jGeorge III. brought him up 
 with the constantly-repeated admonition, '' George, be 
 a king," and that to this early training was due that 
 exalted notion of the prerogative and that obstinate 
 assertion of his will which occasioned the calamities 
 of his reign. Kings have usually been more ready to 
 imbibe such lessons than moral teaching from their 
 mothers ; but whatever may be the actual result, we all 
 feel that a woman is never more nobly occupied than in 
 warning her son against the seductions of pleasure, and 
 in giving to him a high sense of duty. It is from a 
 mother's lips we should all learn to espouse the cause 
 of the helpless and the miserable, and to bear an open 
 heart for the poor and needy.^ 
 
 But now before coming to examine in detail the 
 poem of the virtuous woman, let us briefly recall what 
 the book hitherto has taught us on the subject of 
 womanhood. It began with solemn and oft-repeated 
 
 Prov. xxxi. 8, 9. 
 
398 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 warnings against the " strange woman," and echoes of 
 that mournful theme have accompanied us throughout : 
 the strange woman is a deep ditch, a narrow pit ; he 
 that is abhorred of the Lord shall fall therein.^ And 
 even where the woman's nature is not corrupted by 
 impurity we are several times reminded how she may 
 destroy the peace of man's life by certain faults of 
 temper. If she is contentious and fretful she can make 
 the house utterly unbearable ; it will be better to hve 
 in a corner of the housetop or in a desert land, exposed 
 to the continual downpour of the autumn rains, than to 
 be assailed by her tongue.^ The attempt to restrain 
 her is like trying to grasp the wind, or to seize an 
 object which is smeared with oil.^ We are reminded 
 too how incongruously sometimes great beauty of 
 person is combined with inward faults. '' As a jewel 
 of gold in a swine's snout, so is a fair woman which is 
 ^ without discretion."^ 
 
 ■ But we must distinctly understand that these severe 
 <^ "^ strictures on woman corrupted and woman imperfect 
 are only so many witnesses to her value and import- 
 ance. The place she fills in life is so supreme that if 
 
 she fails in hpr duty 
 ^ heF-iiands lie the 
 
 human life as a_whole is a failure. 
 
 issues of life for mankind. " The 
 /Wisdon> of woman builds her house, and the folly of 
 Vemafi plucks it down with her hands." ^ What the 
 ^ homes of^ nation are, the nation is ; and it is woman's 
 high and beautiful function to make the homes, and 
 within her power lies the terrible capacity for marring 
 
 them. She, much more than the king,^ the fountain 
 
 ,j— -~ — — 
 
 ^ Prov. xxii. 14, xxiii, 27. * Prov. xi. 22. 
 
 ^ Prov. xix. 13, xxi. 9, xxv. 24, xxi, 19, xxvii. 15. ^ Prov. xiv. i. 
 ^ Prov. xxvii. 16. 
 
xxxi.] A GOOD WOMAN. 399 
 
 _/ 
 
 of honour.^ The honour she gives and the honour she 
 ^commands will decide the whole tone of society. Pure, 
 true, and strong, she makes men worship purity, truth, 
 and strength. Corrupt, false, and vain, she blights and 
 blasts the ideal of man, lowers all his aspirations, 
 excites his evil passions to a frenzy of iniquity, degrades 
 his soul to a level below the brutes. 
 
 The condition of woman is the touchstone of a 
 civilised society. 
 
 Again, there is a sense in which woman is an inter-_ 
 preter and revealer of God to the human race. She 
 has religious intuitions 'and spiritual susceptibilities in 
 whicKThe other sex is usually deficient. Most religious 
 systems in the world's history have overlo oked her, 
 and have suffered accordingly. The religion of Jesus 
 Christ recognised her, claimed for her her rightful 
 place, and~~to this day does much of its best work 
 in the world through her gracious ministrations, 
 through her unquestioning faith, through her un- 
 quenchable love. It is as a foreshadowing of this 
 religious significance which Christ was to give to 
 womanhood that the Proverbs recognise the beautiful 
 direct relatioir between God and the possession of a 
 good wife. ^^' Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good 
 thing, and obtaineth favour of the Lord." ^ Wealth, a s 
 it is ordinarily understood, is of the earth, — it can 
 be derived from ancestors by inheritance, or it can 
 be earned by toil of hand and brain, — but every 
 wife worthy of the name is far above all wealth : she 
 cannot be earned or inherited ; she comes, as the 
 mother of mankind came, direct from the hand of the 
 
 ' Prov. xi. 1 6. * Prov. xviii, 22. 
 
400 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 Lord.^ The marriage /tie is a thought of God's he^t. 
 He Himself h^_^anged the exquisite blending of 
 Hfe with life and spirit with spirit ; He has fitted man 
 to woman and woman to man, so that the perfect man 
 is not the man alone, the perfect woman is not the 
 woman alone, but the man and woman one flesh, 
 mystically united, the completeness each of the other ; 
 not two, but a single whole. 
 
 We may now examine in detail this connected 
 description of the virtuous woman, whose value is not 
 to be measured by material wealth, and who yet, from 
 a merely material point of view, is a source of wealth 
 to those who are fortunate enough to call her theirs. 
 
 She is a wife. The modern conception of a woman 
 as an independent person, standing alone, engaged in 
 her own business or profession, and complete in her 
 isolated life, is not to be looked for in the book of 
 Proverbs. It is the creation of accidental circum- 
 stances. However necessary it may be in a country ^^ 
 where the women are largely in excess of the men, it ^ 
 cannot be regarded as final or satisfactory. In the, 
 beginning it was not so, neither will it be so in the end. 
 If men and women are 'to abide in strength and to 
 develope the many sides of their nature, they must be 
 united. It is not good for man to be alone; nor is it . 
 good for woman to be alone. There are some passages 
 
 ' Prov. xix. 14. In the LXX. this clause is beautifully rendered 
 irapa 5^ KvpLov ap/xd^erat 7i;j'7? dvSpi. By the Lord's ordinance woman ' ' 
 and man are dovetailed together in a complete harmony. The 
 thought is well expanded in Ecclesiasticus (xxvi. 1-3): "Blessed is 
 the man that has a virtuous wife, for thereby his life is doubled. A 
 woman made for a man rejoices her husband, and he shall fulfil the 
 years of his life in peace. A virtuous wife is a good portion, in the ' 
 portion of them that fear the Lord shall she be given." 
 
xxxi.] A GOOD WOMAN. 401 
 
 in the New Testament which seem to invalidate this 
 truth. The advocates of celibacy appeal to the example 
 of Christ and to the express words of St. Paul. But 
 the New Testament, as our Lord Himself expressly 
 declares, does not abrogate the eternal law which was 
 from the beginning. And if He Himself abstained from 
 marriage, and if St. Paul seems to approve of such 
 an abstention, we must seek for the explanation in 
 certain exceptional and temporary circumstances ; for 
 it is precisely to Christ Himself in the first instance, 
 and to His great Apostle in the second, that we owe 
 our loftiest and grandest conceptions of marriage. 
 There was no room for a personal marriage in the 
 life of Him who was to be the Bridegroom of His 
 Church ; and St. Paul distinctly implies that the press- 
 ing troubles and anxieties of his own life, and the 
 :onstant wearing labours which were required of the 
 Gentile Apostle, formed the reason why it was better 
 ♦or him, and for such as he, to remain single. 
 
 At any rate the virtuous woman of the Proverbs is 
 ■: wife : and the first thing to observe is the part she 
 plays in relatioiyto her husband. She is his stay and 
 confidence : "^he heart of her husband trusteth in 
 iier." She is his natural confidante and counsellor ; 
 her advice is more valuable than that of much cleverer 
 people, because it is so absolutely disinterested ; the 
 hearts are in such vital contact that the merely intellec- 
 tual communications have a quality all their own. One 
 may often observe in an ideal marriage, though the 
 husband seems to be the stronger and the more self- 
 reliant, the wife is really the pillar of strength ; if death 
 •emoves her, he is forlorn and bereft and helpless ; the 
 gradual work of the years has led him to depend on 
 
 ; 26 
 
4C2 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 her more and more, to draw from her his best inspira- 
 tions, and to turn instinctively to her for advice and 
 direction. 
 
 "^^'She doeth him good, and not evil, all the days of 
 her life." ^ It is not only when she comes as a young 
 bride into his house, bright with youth, encircled with 
 the glamour of early love, — then, it is true, the thought 
 of her nerves his endeavours and quickens his eager 
 steps as he turns homeward in the evening, — it is not 
 only while her fresh charms last, and her womanly 
 beauty acts as a spell on him, while the desire to retain 
 her love disciplines and strengthens whatever is good 
 in his character; but right through to the end of her 
 life, when she has grown old, when the golden hair is 
 grey, and the blooming cheeks are wrinkled, and the^ 
 upright form is bent, — when other people see nothing' 
 beautiful about her except the beauty of old age and: 
 decay, he sees in her the sweet bride of earlier" 
 years, to him the eyes Appear unchanged and the voice' 
 thrills him with happy memories; she ministers to him 
 still and does him good ; not now with the swift alacrit}.^ 
 of foot and the deft movement of the hand, but with 
 the dear, loyal heart, with the love which the years- 
 have mellowed and the trust which the changing 
 circumstances of life have tested and confirmed. 
 
 It is this strong, sweet core of life in the home which 
 gives^e man dignity and honour in public. _She is a 
 crown to her husband.^ His influence in the life of 
 his town or of his country is not always directly traced 
 to its true source. But it is that woman's noble sway 
 over him, it is the constant spur and chastening of her 
 
 ^ Prov. xxxi. 12. 2 Prov. xii. 4. \ 
 
xxxi.] A GOOD WOMAN. 403 
 
 love, which gives him the v^reighty voice and the grave 
 authority in the counsels of the nation. ^^ Her husband 
 is known in the gates, when he sitteth among the 
 elders of the land." ^ He can make but a poor return 
 to her for all her quiet unobtrusive and self-sacrificing 
 help year after year and on to the end, but he can at 
 least repay her with growing reverence and loyalty ; 
 he can tell her, as it were with the impassioned lips of 
 a lover, what he owes to her ; when her children rise 
 up and call her blessed, he can praise her, saying, 
 -y*^ Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou 
 excellest them all."" Indeed it will be his growing 
 conviction that of all the daughters of woman there is 
 none equal to his wife. Her charms have grown upon 
 him, her character has ripened before his eyes, her 
 love has become at once stronger and more precious 
 every year. It is no flattery, no idle compliment of 
 courting-days, no soft word to win the coy heart of the 
 maiden, but it is his own deep and sincere feeling; 
 it is said to her who is his and has been his for years, 
 and in whose assured possession he finds his greatest 
 peace : " I do not question that other women are 
 good and true, but I am sure that you are better than 
 all." And so she is. Every true wife is the best 
 wife. 
 
 The next point in the virtuous woman to which our 
 attention isydrawn is her unflagging industry. Her 
 husband '* shall have no lack of gain." ^ Hft-a:ddition to 
 all those treasTTTes"of mutual love and spiritual converse, 
 all those invaluable services of counsel and guidance, 
 of criticism and encouragement, she is a positive source 
 
 ' Prov. xxxi. 23. -' Prov. xxxi. 29. ^ Prov. xxxi. ii. 
 
404 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 of wealth to him* She is the house-manager. If he 
 earns the bread in the first instance, it is in her hands 
 that it seems to be miraculously multiplied. If he 
 brings home the money which is enough for their wants, 
 it is she who turns the silver into gold and makes the 
 modest means appear great wealth. The fact is her 
 hands are alwa3^s busy. The spindle, the distaff, the 
 tesm, are within her reach and are constantly plied. 
 While she unravels the knotted cares of her husband 
 in the evening with her bright and cheery talk, while 
 she encourages him in all his plans and heartens him 
 for all his duties, her busy fingers are making clothes 
 for the children, repairing, adapting, improving, or 
 else are skilfully constructing ornaments and decora- 
 tions for the household, turning the poor room into a 
 palace, making the walls beam with beauty and the 
 hearts of all within laugh for joy. 
 
 There is something j^uite magical and impressive in 
 wom^ifs economy: "She is like the merchalrFships ; 
 she bringeth her food from afar."^ No one knows how 
 it is done. The table is well spread, the food is daintily 
 served, on infinitesimal means. She finds out by the 
 quick intuitions of love how to get the things which 
 the loved ones like, and by many a little sacrifice un- 
 perceived she produces effects which startle them all. 
 She has a secret of doing and getting which no one 
 knows but she. Early passers-by have seen a light 
 in the house long before the day dawns ; she has 
 been up preparing the breakfast for the household, and 
 mapping out the work for all, so that no hours may be 
 wasted and no one in the family may be idle.^ Her 
 
 ' Prov. xxxi. 14. - Prov. xxxi. 15. 
 
A 'GOOD WOMAN. 40$ 
 
 boundless economies produce astonishing results. One 
 morning she has to announce to the husband and the 
 children that she has managed to put together a little 
 sum which will purchase the freehold of their house 
 and garden.' Her husband exclaims, Why, how has 
 it been done ? Where has the money come from out 
 of our Httle income ? She smiles significantly and will 
 not tell ; but the tears moisten his eyes as he looks 
 into her face and reads the story of self-denials, and 
 managings, and toils, which have issued in this sur- 
 prise. And the children look up with a sense of awe 
 and wonder. They feel that there is something of 
 the supernatural about mother ; and perhaps they are 
 right. 
 
 She has all the delicacy and even weakness of a 
 woman, but the life of constant activity and cheerful 
 toil preserves her health and increases her strength. 
 Idle women, who/ lounge their days away in constant 
 murmurings o\^ their ailments, speak contemptuously 
 about her, — " She has the strength of a horse," they 
 say, *' and can bear anything." They do not know, 
 they do not wish to know, that she is the author of 
 her own strength. It is her own indomitable will, her 
 own loving heart, which girds her loins with strength 
 and makes strong her arms.^ There are others who 
 carp at her on different grounds ; they do not under- 
 stand how one with her husband's income can keep so 
 comfortable a household or dress her children as she 
 does. Those cushions of tapestry, that clothing of fine 
 linen and purple, are an offence to her critics. *' How 
 she does it I am sure I don't know," says one, implying 
 
 * Prov. xxxi. 16. - Pro\. xxxi. 17. 
 
4o6 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 that there is something quite uncanny and disreputable 
 about it. ^' She works Hke a slave," says another, with 
 the tone of scorn that one would employ for a slave. 
 But that is the truth : ^' She perceiveth that her mer- 
 chandise is profitable : her lamp goeth not out by 
 night." ^ She is indeed indefatigable. She actually 
 makes garments which she can sell, girdles for the 
 merchants,- in addition to looking well to the ways of 
 her household. Certainly she does not eat the bread 
 of idleness.^ 
 
 She can, however, very easily bear the contemptuous 
 criticisms of others. The practical results of her life 
 are sufficiently satisfying to make her a little indepen- 
 dent. She has secured herself and her household 
 against the contingencies which harass other house- 
 wives. The approach of winter has no alarms for 
 her : all the children and servants are warmly and suffi- 
 ciently clad.^ The uncertain future has no terrors for 
 her : she has made ample provision for it, and can 
 regard the unknown chances with a smile of confi- 
 dence.^ And indeed, whatever detractors may say 
 behind her back, it is not easy for any one to say any- 
 thing severe in her presence. For the same loving, 
 earnest, diligent ways which have made her house- 
 hold comfortable and secure have clothed her with 
 garments better than scarlet and linen. "Strength 
 and dignity are her clothing," — robes so gracious and 
 beautiful that criticism is silenced in her presence, 
 while the hearts of all good and honest people are 
 drawn out to her. 
 
 ' Prov. xxxi. 1 8. * Prov. xxxi. 2i. 
 
 '^ Prov xxxi. 24. ' Prov. xxxi. 25. 
 
 ^ Prov xxxi. 27 
 
A GOOD WOMAN. 407 
 
 But here is another characteristic of the virtuous 
 woman. Economy and generosity go hand in hand. 
 Frugal livers and hard workers are always the largest 
 givers. This woman, whose toil late at night and early 
 in the morning has enriched and blessed her own, is 
 ready to help tho se who are less fo rtunate. " She 
 spreadeth out her hand to the poor ; yea, she reacheth 
 forth her hands to the needy." ^ Most women are 
 naturally pitiful and shrink from the sight of suffering; 
 but while idle and self-indulgent women try to avoid 
 the painful sight, and turn their flow of pity into 
 the channels of vapid sentimentality, the good woman 
 trains her sense of pity by coming into contact with 
 those who deserve it, and only seeks to avoid the sight 
 of suffering by trying everywhere and always to 
 relieve it. 
 
 Among all the noble and Christlike offices of woman 
 this is the one which most strikingly connects her with 
 the human life of our Lord. It is her function to 
 excite and to cherish the quality of compassion in the 
 human heart, and by her trained skill and intuitive 
 tact to make the ministrations of the community to the 
 poor truly charitable instead of dangerously demoraliz- 
 ing. Man is apt to relieve the poor by the laws of 
 political economy, without emotion and by measure : 
 he makes a Poor Law which produces the evil it pre- 
 tends to relieve ; he degrades the lovely word Charity 
 into a badge of shame and a wanton insult to 
 humanity. It is woman that " spreads out her palm 
 and reacheth forth her hand " to the poor, bringing her 
 heart into the work, giving, not doles of money, but 
 
 ' Prov. xxxi. 20. 
 
4o8 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 the helpfulness of a sister's love, the tenderness of a 
 mother's solicitude, the awakening touch of a daughter's 
 care. And the hand which is thus held out to the 
 poor is precisely the hand which has been laid on 
 the distaff and the spindle ; not the lazy hand or .the 
 useless hand, but the hand which is supple with toil, 
 dexterous with acquired skill. 
 
 There are two reflections which must have occurred 
 to us in following this description of the good woman. 
 Her portrait has risen before our eyes, and we ask. Is 
 she beautiful ? We have watched her activities, their 
 mode and their result, and we wonder whether she is 
 religious. '^ Favour is deceitful and beauty is vain, but 
 a woman that feareth the Lord she shall be praised." ^ 
 That this woman has a beauty of her own seems clear, 
 and that she fears the Lord is a fair inference to make. 
 It is idle to declaim against the charms of personal 
 beauty ; we may call it deceitful and vain, but it will 
 not cease to be attractive. Men will not be reasoned 
 or ridiculed out of that instinctive homage which they 
 pay to a lovely face ; the witchery of bright eyes and 
 arch looks, the winsomeness of sweet contours and 
 delicate hues, will last, we may surmise, as long as the 
 sun and ni oon e ndure ; and why should we dishonour 
 God by supposing that He did not make the beauty 
 which attracts and the attraction which the beauty 
 excites ? But it is not impossible to open men's eyes 
 to the beauty of a less transient and more satisfying 
 kind which lies in the character and conduct of women. 
 If mothers accustom their sons to see those sterling 
 attractions which permanently secure the affection and 
 
 ' Prov. xxxi. 30. 
 
xxxi.] A GOOD WOMAN. 409 
 
 the devotion of a husband, the young men will not be 
 content with superficial beauties and vanishing charms 
 in the women whom they choose. "^^ 
 
 And is not the beauty of womari — rsuch beauty as 
 we have been contemplating — the result; of fearing the 
 Lord? Is it p ossible, apart from a living faith in a 
 living God, to maintain that lovely wifeliness, that 
 self-sacrificing, diligent love, that overflow of pity 
 to the poor and needy, which constitute grace and 
 loveliness of character? Has any one succeeded in 
 even depicting an imaginary woman devoid of religion 
 and yet complete and beautiful ? We have already 
 noticed how suited the woma n's nature is to. receive 
 religious impressions and to communicate religious in- 
 fluences ; we may now notice, in concluding, that this 
 very characteristic renders a woman without God even 
 more imperfect and unsatisfying than a man without 
 God. She is^jiaturally incHned tp cling to a person^ 
 rather than to an idea, to follow a person rather than 
 a theory. The only Person to whom she can cling 
 with absolutely good and hallowing results is God ; 
 the only Person whom she can follow and minister to 
 without detriment to her womanhood and with gain to 
 her spirit ij_Qirist. A godless woman makes a sore 
 shipwreck of life, whether she becomes sensual and 
 depraved, or ambitious and domineering, or bitter and 
 cynical, or vain and conventional. In_Jiei^ ruin there 
 is always a power as of a fallen angel, and she can 
 drag others with her in her fall. 
 
 If a man is wise then in choosing for himself a wife, 
 the first thing he will demand is that she shall be one 
 that fears the Lord, one who shall be able to lead him 
 and help him in that which is his truest life, and to 
 
410 THE BOOK OF PROVERBS. 
 
 maintain for him a saving intercourse with the world 
 of spiritual realities. He may be assured that in her 
 love to God he has the best guarantee of her love to 
 him, and that if she does not fear and love God the 
 main sanction for their wedded happiness will be 
 wanting. 
 
 Finally, where the woman who has been described 
 is actually found in real life it is for us to recognise 
 her and to reward her. Let society take note of her : 
 '' Give her of the fruit of her hands, and let her works 
 praise her in the gates." The great Greek historian 
 said that woman's highest praise consisted in not being 
 mentioned at all. That is not the teaching of Revela- 
 tion. Woman's best work is often done in silence and 
 without observation, but her highest praise is Vv^hen 
 the seeds sown in silence have grown into flowers of 
 loveliness and fruit that is sweet to the taste, and the 
 whole community is forced to yield her the honour 
 which is her due, exalting, with heartfelt admiration and 
 with deep gratitude to God, the Wife, the Mother, the 
 Ministrant to the Poor. 
 
INDEX OF TEXTS IN PROVERBS QUOTED 
 OR EXPOUNDED. 
 
 VERSES 
 
 PAGES 
 
 VERSES 
 
 PAGES 
 
 VERSES 
 
 PAGES 
 
 
 
 
 
 32 . . .29 
 
 Chapter I. 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 
 33 ... 72 
 
 i.-ix. 
 
 • 7 
 
 1-7 
 
 . 52 
 
 34 ... 72 
 
 7 
 
 9; IS> etc. 
 
 8,9 . 
 
 . 55 
 
 35 ... 72 
 
 11-14 
 13 
 
 26, 27 
 . 32 
 
 12 
 14 
 
 . . 64 
 . . 56 
 
 Chapter VII. 
 
 17 
 
 . 34 
 
 16, 17 . 
 
 26, 63 
 
 1-5 .. • 93 
 
 19 
 
 . 30, 33 
 
 18 
 
 . . 63 
 
 4 
 
 . 94 
 
 24-31 
 
 . 35, 36 
 
 19 
 
 . 62 
 
 5;^7 
 
 . 27, 95, etc. 
 
 25 
 
 • 34 
 
 20-23 . 
 
 . 57 
 
 8 
 
 . . . 95 
 
 31 
 
 . 34, 2>1 
 
 24 
 
 . 59 
 
 9 
 
 . . . 94 
 
 32 
 
 ' 25, 34 
 
 25-27 . 
 
 . 61 
 
 14 
 15 
 
 . 124 
 . 68 
 
 Ci 
 
 AFTER II. 
 
 Chapte 
 
 R V. 
 
 16, 17 
 
 . 68 
 
 10 
 
 . 25 
 
 3-20 . 
 
 . 27 
 
 22 
 
 • 99 
 
 1 2 
 16 
 
 . 24 
 . 24 
 
 8 
 9 
 
 . 66 
 . 72 
 
 Chapter VIII. 
 
 19 
 
 . 34 
 
 10 
 
 . 72 
 
 1-6 . . . 107 
 
 21 
 
 . 37 
 
 II 
 
 . 72 
 
 7-9 
 
 . 108 
 
 22 
 
 . 33, 37 
 
 12-14 . 
 
 28,72 
 
 10-16 
 
 . 109 
 
 
 
 15-19 . 
 
 . 69 
 
 15-16 
 
 . 4 
 
 Ch 
 
 AFTER III. 
 
 21 
 
 62, 72 
 
 17 
 
 . no 
 
 I-IO 
 
 ■ : :% 
 
 22 
 
 . 29 
 
 18 
 
 . 109 
 
 6 
 
 8 
 12 
 13-15 
 
 23 
 
 . 73 
 
 20 
 22 
 
 . 108 
 . no 
 
 . 39 
 . 48 
 
 Chapte 
 
 R VI. 
 
 . 80 
 
 22-31 
 26 
 29 
 30-36 . 
 
 . 112, etc. 
 . no 
 . Ill 
 
 . 120 
 
 16 
 18 
 
 . 50 
 . 49 
 
 6-8 
 12-15 . 
 
 . 83 
 . 84 
 
 27 
 28 
 
 . 43 
 . 43 
 
 16-19 • 
 
 20-23 • 
 
 . 88 
 . 91 
 
 Chapter IX. 
 
 29 
 
 . 41 
 
 24-35 . 
 
 . 27 
 
 1-3 . . 123-4 
 
 31 
 
 . 50 
 
 25 
 
 . 68 
 
 4 . . . 122 
 
 Zi 
 
 . 41 
 
 26 
 
 72,75 
 
 5 ... 124 
 
 35 
 
 • 51 
 
 27, 28 . 
 
 . 71 
 
 6 
 
 . . 125 
 
412 
 
 INDEX OF TEXTS. 
 
 VERSES 
 
 PAGES 
 
 VERSES PACrS 
 
 VERSES PAGES 
 
 7 
 
 . 125 
 
 25 . . . 146 
 
 19 . . . 192 
 
 8 
 
 • 348 
 
 26 
 
 . 294 
 
 22 . . 141, 153 
 
 9 
 
 . 127 
 
 27 
 
 . 152 
 
 24 . . . 309 
 
 lO 
 
 9, 127 
 
 28 
 
 . 140 
 
 25 . . • 152 
 
 12 
 
 37, 131 
 
 30 
 
 . 152 
 
 
 17 
 
 . 68 
 
 31 
 
 • 154 
 
 Chapter XIV. 
 
 Chapte 
 
 R X. 
 
 Chapter XII. 
 
 I 
 3 
 4 
 
 . • 398 
 
 165, 176, 186 
 
 . 269 
 
 I 
 
 . 306 
 
 I . . 163, 181 
 
 2 
 
 i35» 141 
 
 2 
 
 • 155 
 
 5 
 
 • 9h 176 
 
 4 
 
 . 139 
 
 4 
 
 . 4, 402 
 
 6 
 
 . 126 
 
 12 
 
 . 209 
 
 5 
 
 • 177, 198 
 
 7 
 
 • 171, 339 
 
 13 
 
 . 342 
 
 6 
 
 163, 169, 176 
 
 9 
 
 . . 156 
 
 14 
 
 . 164 
 
 7 
 
 . i5o> 151 
 
 10 
 
 191, et ieq. 
 
 15 
 
 138, 290 
 
 8 
 
 . 42 
 
 II 
 
 . 150 
 
 17 
 
 . 181 
 
 9 
 
 . 139 
 
 12 
 
 . 65, 151 
 
 18 
 
 . 339 
 
 II 
 
 152, 267, 275 
 
 13 
 
 • 191, 195 
 
 19 
 
 • 171 
 
 13 
 
 152, 163, 164 
 
 14 
 
 . 152 
 
 22 
 
 . 142 
 
 14 
 
 . . 163 
 
 15 
 
 . 177 
 
 23 .III 
 
 , 156, 338 
 
 15 
 
 . 183,256 
 
 16 
 
 . 186 
 
 28 
 
 . 150 
 
 16 
 
 . 163, 166 
 
 17 
 
 . 205 
 
 29 
 
 • 155 
 
 17 
 
 91, 163, 167 
 
 19 
 
 • ^53 
 
 30 
 
 • 150 
 
 18 163 
 
 , 164, 167, 172 
 
 20 
 
 • 138,139 
 
 
 
 19 
 
 89, 163, 168 
 
 21 
 
 . 294 
 
 Chapte 
 
 R XI. 
 
 21 
 
 . 152 
 
 22 
 
 . 152 
 
 
 
 22 
 
 . 163, 168 
 
 23 
 
 . 171 
 
 I 
 
 . 215 
 . 183 
 
 23 
 
 . 163,339 
 
 24 
 
 . 141, 340 
 
 2 
 
 24 
 
 . 272 
 
 25 
 
 • 91, 176 
 
 3 
 
 • 151 
 
 25 
 
 . 163, 173 
 
 26 
 
 . 152 
 
 4 
 
 . 142 
 
 26 
 
 . 153, 154 
 
 27 
 
 • 15 
 
 5 
 
 . 150 
 
 27 
 
 . 265, 273 
 
 28 
 
 • 332 
 
 6 
 
 149, 150 
 
 
 29 
 
 . 205 
 
 9 
 
 • 151 
 
 • 152 
 
 169, 176 
 
 Chapter XIII. 
 
 30 
 
 . 210 
 
 I . 125, 179, 181 
 
 31 
 
 32 
 
 . 143,291 
 . 153 
 
 10 
 
 • 154 
 
 2 
 
 . 164 
 
 33 
 
 . 171.339 
 
 II 
 
 • 154 
 
 3 
 
 . i5o> 171 
 
 34 
 
 4, 154 
 
 12 
 13 
 
 • 177 
 . 169 
 
 4 
 5 
 
 . .271 
 
 . 168 
 
 35 
 
 . .328 
 
 14 
 15 
 
 .256 
 . 80, 332 
 
 6 
 8 
 
 • 152 
 
 . . 138 
 
 Chapter XV. 
 
 16 
 
 • 399 
 
 9 
 
 • 151 
 
 I . . 172, 203 
 
 ^l 
 
 . 297 
 
 10 
 
 179, 183, 184 
 
 2 
 
 . 171 
 
 18 
 
 . 150 
 
 II 
 
 . 141 
 
 3 
 
 . 197 
 
 19 
 
 . 151 
 
 12 
 
 . 193, 194 
 
 4 
 
 172, 203, 210 
 
 20 
 
 • 155 
 
 13 17 
 
 9, 181, 184, 259 
 
 6 
 
 141, 142, 216 
 
 21 
 
 • 151 
 
 16 
 
 . 171 
 
 7 
 
 . 175 
 
 22 
 
 • 398 
 
 17 
 
 . 182 
 
 8 
 
 . 156, i8i 
 
 24 
 
 146, 298 
 
 18 
 
 . 140, 179 
 
 9 
 
 . 155 
 
INDEX OF TEXTS. 
 
 413 
 
 VERSES PAGES 
 
 VERSES PAGES 
 
 VERSES PAGES 
 
 II . . .198 
 
 30 ... 85 
 
 18 . . . 217 
 
 12 
 
 
 . 126 
 
 32 . . . 209 
 
 19 
 
 
 • 234 
 
 13 
 
 
 • 195 
 
 33 • • 4.217 
 
 20 
 
 
 . 164 
 
 15 
 
 
 195- 357 
 
 
 21 
 
 
 . 164 
 
 16, 17 
 
 
 . 143 
 
 ClIArTER XVII. 
 
 22 
 
 
 4, 399 
 
 18 
 
 
 . 203 
 
 
 23 
 
 
 • 139 
 
 19 
 
 
 . 264 
 
 I 
 
 • 'J3 
 
 24 
 
 
 . 229,233 
 
 20 
 
 
 181, 306 
 
 2 
 
 . 184 
 
 
 22 
 
 
 256, 332 
 
 3 
 
 . 198 
 
 Chapter XIX. 
 
 23 
 
 
 165, 173 
 
 4 
 
 . 177 
 
 
 25 
 
 
 187, 291 
 
 5 143, 29 
 
 1,314,316 
 
 I 
 
 142, 165 
 
 26 
 
 
 155. 172 
 
 6 
 
 53, 143 
 
 2 
 
 
 • ""^^ 
 
 27 
 
 
 • 145 
 
 7 
 
 ■ 332 
 
 4 
 
 
 138, 139 
 
 28 
 
 . 151 
 
 , 169, 176 
 
 8 
 
 . 138 
 
 5 
 
 
 . 91, 167 
 
 29 
 
 
 . 156 
 
 9 
 
 . 169 
 
 6 
 
 
 . 138 
 
 30 
 
 
 . 196 
 
 10 
 
 . 182 
 
 7 
 
 • 3 
 
 , 139, 166 
 
 31 
 
 
 . 184 
 
 II 
 
 . 259 
 
 8 
 
 
 . . 258 
 
 32 
 
 
 . 181 
 
 12 
 
 204, 343 
 
 9 
 
 
 • 91 
 
 33, etc. 4, 1S4, 215 
 
 14 
 
 205, 208 
 
 10 
 
 
 . 342 
 
 
 '1 
 
 • 155 
 
 II 
 
 
 . 205 
 
 Chapter XVI. 
 
 16 
 
 • 339 
 
 12 
 
 
 . 328 
 
 
 17 
 
 . 227 
 
 13 
 
 * 292 
 
 , 306, 398 
 
 I 
 
 
 . i7» 
 
 18 
 
 . 80 
 
 14 
 
 
 4 
 
 1-7 
 
 
 4, 216 
 
 19 
 
 . 185 
 
 15 
 
 
 . 265 
 
 2 
 
 
 . 198 
 
 20 
 
 . 165 
 
 16 
 
 
 152, 258 
 
 4 
 
 
 . 201 
 
 21 
 
 306, 339 
 
 17 
 
 
 146, 291 
 
 5 
 
 
 151, 187 
 
 22 
 
 194, 195 
 
 18 
 
 
 . 309 
 
 6 
 
 
 226, 362 
 
 24 
 
 . 61 
 
 19 
 
 
 . 206 
 
 7 
 8 
 
 
 • 324 
 
 25 
 
 • 306 
 
 20 
 
 
 256, 261 
 
 
 . 142 
 
 26 
 
 153,155 
 
 21 
 
 
 216, 257 
 
 9 
 
 
 . 216 
 
 27 
 
 177,205 
 
 22 
 
 
 165, 198 
 
 II 
 
 
 • 215 
 
 28 
 
 . 177 
 
 23 
 
 
 258, 362 
 
 12 
 
 
 • 327 
 
 
 
 24 
 
 
 . 263 
 
 13 
 14 
 
 
 153, 327 
 . 328 
 
 Chapter 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 25 
 26 
 
 
 . 126 
 . 306 
 
 15 
 
 
 .32S 
 
 I . 20, 
 
 ;, 239, etc. 
 
 27 
 
 
 .258 
 
 16 
 
 
 . 142 
 
 2 
 
 . 171 
 
 28 
 
 
 . 167 
 
 17 
 
 
 • 'P 
 
 3 
 
 • 154 
 
 29 
 
 
 258, 342 
 
 18 
 
 
 . 180 
 
 4 
 
 . 165 
 
 
 19 
 
 20 4, 17 
 
 9, iS 
 
 . 180 
 3.188,216 
 
 5 
 6 
 
 . 155 
 . 165 
 
 Chapter XX. 
 
 21 
 
 
 • 175 
 
 7 
 
 . 165 
 
 I ... 279 
 
 22 
 
 
 • 340 
 
 8 
 
 . 169 
 
 2 
 
 
 • 329 
 
 23 
 
 
 • 175 
 
 9 
 
 167, 266 
 
 3 
 
 
 . 205 
 
 24 
 
 
 • 173 
 
 II 
 
 . 138 
 
 4 
 
 
 . 262 
 
 25 
 
 
 • 151 
 
 12 
 
 180, 189 
 
 5 
 
 
 .256 
 
 26 
 
 
 . 265 
 
 13 
 
 . 170 
 
 7 
 
 
 • 153 
 
 27 
 
 
 • 154 
 
 14 
 
 • 194 
 
 8 
 
 
 . 327 
 
 28 
 
 
 . 169 
 
 15 
 
 . 127 9 
 
 
 . 198 
 
 29 
 
 
 • 27 . 
 
 16 
 
 . 138 
 
 10 
 
 
 . 215 
 
414 
 
 INDEX OF TEXTS. 
 
 VERSES 
 
 PAGES 
 
 VERSES 
 
 PAGES 
 
 VERSES PAGES 
 
 II 
 
 • 153 
 
 
 
 6 ... 256 
 
 12 
 
 • 197 
 
 Chapter XXII. 
 
 7 
 
 
 . 177 
 
 13 
 
 . 204 
 
 
 
 9 
 
 
 126, 341 
 
 14 
 
 . 86 
 
 I 
 
 • • 00 '43 
 
 II, 12 E 
 
 )y 155 
 
 , 197, 299 
 
 15 
 
 142, 176 
 
 2 
 
 143, 288, 292 
 
 15 
 
 
 26, 151 
 
 16 
 
 . 80 
 
 3 
 
 • • 35? 
 
 16 
 
 
 . 151 
 
 17 
 
 . 168 
 
 4 
 6 
 
 . 140, 188 
 
 17 
 
 
 . 314 
 
 18 
 
 . 256,332 
 
 • 303 
 
 18 
 
 
 • 314 
 
 19 
 
 . 169 
 
 7 
 8 
 
 9 
 10 
 
 • 139 
 
 19 
 
 
 • 151 
 
 21 
 22 
 23 
 
 • 145 
 . 210 
 . 215 
 
 • 151 
 
 146, 288, 300 
 . 126 
 
 20 
 
 21 
 
 22 
 
 
 • 151 
 
 5.329 
 
 - • 329 
 
 24 
 
 . 198 
 
 II 
 
 153, 165, 327 
 
 23 
 
 
 . 330 
 
 26 
 
 . 327 
 
 12 
 
 • 155 
 . 283, 398 
 
 23-34 
 
 
 • 3,5 
 
 27 
 28 
 
 . 198 
 . 328 
 
 13 
 
 14 
 
 24 
 25 
 
 
 . 154 
 . 154 
 
 30 
 
 . 310 
 
 15 
 16 
 
 . 304,340 
 141, 288, 297 
 
 26 
 
 27 
 
 
 . 176 
 
 . 352 
 
 
 
 17, etc. 
 
 18 
 
 22 
 
 . 4 
 . 165 
 
 . 4, 288 
 
 28 
 
 
 . 314 
 
 Chapter 
 
 XXI. 
 
 29 
 30-34 
 
 
 82, 270 
 
 I 
 
 4,328 
 
 23 
 
 24 
 
 . 288 
 . 204 
 
 34 
 
 
 .263 
 
 2 
 
 151, 198 
 
 26, 27 
 
 . 80 
 
 
 3 
 4 
 
 *. 188 
 
 29 
 
 . 272 
 
 Chapter XXV. 
 xxv.-xxix. . . C 
 
 5 
 6 
 
 7 
 
 . 272 
 . 141 
 . 150 
 
 Chap 
 1-3 
 
 TER XXIII. 
 
 . 333 
 
 2 
 
 6,7 . 
 8 
 
 . 169 
 
 • 5 
 
 . 208 
 
 8 
 
 • '^\ 
 
 4 
 
 . 145 
 
 9 
 
 . 208 
 
 9 
 
 • 398 
 
 5 
 
 . 140 
 
 
 . 174 
 
 10 
 
 i5i» 179 
 
 9 
 
 125, 170, 348 
 
 12 
 
 164, 175 
 
 12 
 
 • 155 
 
 10 
 
 . 291 
 
 14 
 
 . 180 
 
 13 
 14 
 
 . 299 
 . 138 
 
 13-14 
 
 . 291 
 . 303-310 
 
 17 
 18 
 
 . 244 
 . 167 
 
 15 
 
 151. 152 
 
 15 
 
 • 306 
 
 20 
 
 • 174 
 
 17 
 
 . 276 
 
 16 
 
 . 166,306 
 
 21, 22 . 
 
 6, 314 
 
 18 
 
 . 152 
 
 
 
 17 
 
 . 151.308 
 
 23 
 
 . 169 
 
 19 
 
 • 398 
 
 17-21 
 
 • 313 
 
 24 
 
 • 398 
 
 20 . 14c 
 
 , 272, 339 
 
 18 
 
 . 151 
 
 26 . 
 
 . ii^^ 
 
 21 
 
 . 152 
 
 21 
 
 . 140 
 
 28 
 
 DO 
 . 206 
 
 23 
 
 • '^5 
 
 24 
 
 . . 306 
 
 
 24 
 25 
 
 . 180 
 . 266 
 
 26-28 
 27 
 
 . 123 
 
 . 398 
 
 Chapter XXVI. 
 
 26 
 
 . 145 
 
 29-35 
 
 4. 76, 281 
 
 I ... 340 
 
 ^^ 
 
 156 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 
 . 168 
 
 28 
 29 
 
 165, 167 
 
 . 187 
 
 Chai 
 
 'TER XXIV. 
 
 3-12 
 10 
 
 
 341-349 
 . 346 
 
 30 
 
 • 259 
 
 I 
 
 . 151 
 
 12 
 
 
 . 180 
 
 31 
 
 . 259 
 
 5 
 
 . . . 256 
 
 13 
 
 
 .263 
 
INDEX OF TEXTS. 
 
 41S 
 
 VERSES TAGES 
 
 VERSES 
 
 PAGES 
 
 VERSES PAGES 
 
 14 
 
 . .263 
 
 I 
 
 • iSS 
 
 17 . . . 310 
 
 15 
 
 
 . 263 
 
 2 
 
 . 332 
 
 18 
 
 
 
 375 
 
 16 
 
 
 . 263 
 
 3 
 
 . 296 
 
 20 
 
 
 
 170 
 
 18 
 
 
 . 170 
 
 4 
 
 154, 385 
 
 22 
 
 
 
 204 
 
 19 
 
 
 . 170 
 
 6 
 
 . 142 
 
 23 
 
 
 
 180 
 
 20 
 
 
 . 169 
 
 8 
 
 141,297 
 
 25 
 
 
 
 335 
 
 21 
 
 
 166, 204 
 
 9 
 
 156, 385 
 
 26 
 
 
 
 335 
 
 22 
 
 
 . 169 
 
 II 
 
 • 143 
 
 27 
 
 
 
 148 
 
 23-28 . 
 
 
 . 16S 
 
 12 
 
 154, 332 
 
 
 24 
 
 
 • 151 
 
 13 
 
 . 362 
 
 
 26 
 
 
 • 151 
 
 14 
 
 . 362 
 
 Chapter XXX. 
 
 ClIArXER 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 15 
 16 
 
 . 332 
 . 332 
 
 267. 270 
 
 XXX. generally 6, 386 
 
 2 
 
 
 :?i^ 
 
 18 
 19 
 
 1-4 
 
 
 390, 392 
 . 393 
 . 146 
 . 146 
 . 89 
 
 3 
 4 
 
 1 
 
 
 -.Its 
 
 . 182 
 
 20 
 22 
 23 . i65 
 
 . 145 
 
 • 145 
 
 1, 175, 182 
 
 9 
 13 
 
 
 
 . 232 
 
 26 . 3^ 
 
 5, 183, 348 
 
 22 
 
 25,27 
 31 
 32, 33 
 
 
 332, 339 
 . 83 
 . 329 
 . 167 
 
 8 
 
 9 
 10 
 
 
 ■ 5, 243 
 . . 232 
 . 233,244 
 
 27 
 28 
 
 . 146, 29S 
 
 . . 154 
 
 
 1 1 
 
 
 . 306 
 
 
 
 
 12 
 
 
 . . 352 
 . 80 
 
 Chapter 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 
 13 
 
 
 I 
 
 . 88 
 
 Chapter XXXI. 
 
 14 
 
 
 229, 237 
 
 2 . t 
 
 ;, 154. 332 
 
 xxxi. generally 6, 397 
 
 15 
 
 
 • • 39^ 
 
 3 
 
 . . 306 
 
 I ... 397 
 
 16 
 
 
 . 398 
 
 4 
 
 • 332 
 
 2-8 
 
 
 • 334 
 
 17 
 
 
 • • Y 
 
 5 
 
 . 168 
 
 3 
 
 
 • 397 
 
 18 
 
 
 . 35o» 360 
 
 6 
 
 . 152 
 
 4 
 
 
 . . 278 
 
 19 
 
 
 . 230 
 
 7 
 
 . 300 
 
 5 
 
 
 . . 278 
 
 20 
 
 
 • 350,354 
 
 8 
 
 . 204 
 
 6 
 
 
 . 278 
 
 21 
 
 
 . 182 
 
 9 
 
 • 341 
 
 7 
 
 
 . . 278 
 
 22 
 
 • 340 
 
 II . 16 
 
 3, 205, 345 
 
 8 
 
 
 . 176 
 
 23-27 . 5, 140, 270 
 
 12 
 
 • 333 
 
 9 
 
 
 . 176 
 
 
 14 
 
 . . 328 
 
 10-31 
 
 
 . 400, 410 
 
 Chapter XXVIII. 
 
 15 
 
 . 310 
 
 27 
 
 
 . 273 
 
 xxviiii. 
 
 jener 
 
 ally . 5 
 
 16 
 
 . 151 
 
 30 
 
 
 
 • 302 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Agassiz, 144. 
 
 Agriculture, 140, 269. 
 
 Agur, 386. 
 
 Anger, 205. 
 
 Ant, the, 83. 
 
 Atheism, unknown to Israel, ii, 
 
 18. 
 Atonement, meaning of, 362, 371. 
 
 Bacon, 16, 230. 
 Bible, its character, 382. 
 Buddha, his teaching quoted, 71. 
 Burns, quoted, 293. 
 
 Carlyle, 305. 
 
 Catholic, the Catholic Church, 246. 
 
 Chastening, 51. 
 
 Christ, 93, 103, 107, 117, 120, 133, 
 148, 212, 227, 247, 258, 273, 
 318, 326, 330, 335, 348, 360, 
 
 383. 
 
 His use of the Proverbs, 124, 
 
 126, 127, 128, 130, 159, 314. 
 Church, the, 247. 
 Coleridge, 16. 
 
 Commercial life, 41, 86, 218, 226. 
 Competition, 31. 
 Confession, 364. 
 Conscience, 225, 252, 343. 
 Contentment, 356. 
 Conversion, 104, 212, 287, 320. 
 " Corners," 295. 
 
 Covetousness, 30. 
 Creation, the poem of, 112. 
 Criticism, 181. 
 
 Dandy, the, 95. 
 Darwin, 16. 
 Death, not terrible, 41. 
 Diligence, 139, 262 et seq. 
 Distribution, economic, 136. 
 Donatello, 183. 
 Drink, 275 et seq. 
 Drunkard, the, 76, 277. 
 
 EccLESiASTES, quoted, 10. 
 Ecclesiasticus, 9, 12, 22, 81, 139, 
 
 144, 169, 184, 218, 250, 306, 
 
 400. 
 Education, 52 et seq., 303 et seq. 
 Equality, 294. 
 Evolution, 113. 
 
 Faith, the life of, 356. 
 
 Fanaticism, 287. 
 
 Fitness, in speech, 170, 174. 
 
 Flattery, 168. 
 
 Folly, 67, 92, 122, 131, 205. 
 
 Fool, the, 337 et seq. 
 
 Forgiveness, 314 ^^ seq. 
 
 God's, 370. 
 
 Francis, St., 190. 
 Friendship, 227 et seq. 
 
GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 417 
 
 Gambling, 32. 
 
 God, His existence, 391, 
 
 men need Him, 43. 
 
 relation with human life, 47, 
 
 155. 197, 199,217, 236,252, 291, 
 
 353- 
 Gregg, quoted, 73. 
 
 Health, result of wisdom. 39. 
 Heathenism, 158, 377. 
 Heaven, 59, 162, 274. 
 Hell, 59, 73. 
 Henry H., 106. 
 Home, 53. 
 Honesty, 224. 
 Hudibras, quoted, 266. 
 Humility, 44, 127, 184, 189. 
 
 Idleness, ruinous, 266. 
 
 Immortality, 378, 
 
 Impurity, 25, 27, 29. 
 
 Indra, drunk, 279. 
 
 Inspiration of the book of Proverbs, 
 
 157. 
 Inwardness, 60. 
 
 JAHVEH, 15, 21. 
 Jakeh, 6. 
 
 Joy, 193- 
 Justification, 161. 
 
 King, the, 326 et seq. 
 Divine right of, 331. 
 
 Land, the land question, 270. 
 Lanfranc, anecdote of, 205. 
 Law, 113. 
 Lemuel, 6, 396. 
 Liberality, 43, 145. 
 Lies, 89, 130, 167, 330. 
 Livingstone, 59. 
 Lot, the, use of, 217. 
 
 Love, 209, 235, 311. 
 
 Man, 114. 
 
 Marriage, 69, 401. 
 
 Massa, Gen. xxv. 14, 6. 
 
 Meekness, 172, 210. 
 
 Milton, quoted, 59, 69, in, 133, 
 
 316, 367. 
 Misanthrope, the, 240. 
 Misapplication of Scripture, 346. 
 Morality, relation to science, 116. 
 Mother's influence, 397. 
 
 neglect, 53. 
 
 Murder, 90. 
 
 Nabal, 339. 
 
 National righteousness, 154. 
 
 Neighbourliness, 244. 
 
 Obedience, 385. 
 
 Parents, duties of^ 306. 
 
 Paton, John, 54, 217. 
 
 Paul, St., 359. 
 
 Pauperism, 290. 
 
 Plain speaking, 65, 102. 
 
 Pleasure, 276. 
 
 Poor, the, 43, 141, 143, 176, 288 ^^ 
 
 seq. 
 Positivism, 378. 
 Pride, 89, 179 et seq., 210. 
 Proverbs, book of, its limitations, 
 
 22, 211, 316, 347. 
 Punishment, 87, 309 et seq. 
 
 Quarrelling, 166. 
 
 Rashness, 170. 
 Realism, 66, 92. 
 Reason, 341. 
 Remorse, 77. 
 
 Repetition of Proverbs, 2 {note). 
 27 
 
4i8 
 
 GENERAL INDEX. 
 
 Reproof, 175. 
 
 Revelation, necessary, 20, 375 ei 
 
 seq., 393- 
 Revenge, 316. 
 Robespierre, 377. 
 Rubies, valley of, 49. 
 
 Science, depends on theology, 113. 
 
 its limitations, 379, 380. 
 
 Scorner, the, .125, 129. 
 Servants, treatment of, 387. 
 Shakespeare, quoted, 73, 86, 234, 
 
 241. 
 Sin, its nature, 363, 367. 
 
 its results, 71, 74, loi. 
 
 its seductions, 68. 
 
 Sister, 94. 
 
 Sluggard, the, 82, 263. 
 Socialism, 137, 147, 395. 
 Solomon, not the author of the 
 
 whole book, 2, 106. 
 Speech, its power, 164. 
 Suretiship, 80. 
 Sweating, 31, 296. 
 Sympathy, 196. 
 
 Theism, necessary to knowledge, 19. 
 Temper, 203, 207. 
 Temperance, 280, 286. 
 Tennyson, quoted, 67. 
 Truth, injured by drink, 283. 
 
 Wealth, 135 et seq. 
 
 true, 356. 
 
 Wife, the, 399 et seq. 
 Will, freedom of, 25 1 et seq. 
 Wisdom, meaning of, 10. 
 
 person of, 92, 108, 123. 
 
 rewards of, 37, 109. 
 
 the book of, 9, 10, 
 
 the book of, quoted, 118. 
 
 Woman, 96, 132, 396. 
 Work, its blessings, 268. 
 Worthless man, the, 84. 
 
 Youth, dangers of, 34. 
 
 ZACCHiEUS, 367. 
 Zola, 67. 
 
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