Page images
PDF
EPUB

SHORT PAPERS ON SHORT TEXTS.

or his self-assertion would not have been quite so confident as it was; but he had kept the commandments in the letter. He had done no murder; he had not committed adultery; he had never, on any occasion, stolen, or borne false witness; he had honoured his father and his mother; and, as he thought, had loved his neighbour as himself. And this, if you come to think of it, with all its imperfection, and all its inadequate appreciation of the spiritual import of a Divine commandment, was very much for one to be able to say who had the hot blood of youth flowing in his veins, and the temptations of riches and worldly position combining to assail him. He was a man of a pure, upright, conscientious, well-ordered life. Give him full credit for the fact: and remember, that he was brought by it so much the nearer to the kingdom of heaven.

But there were other favourable features about his character. He was in earnest about religion. Though a "ruler" of the synagogue-i.e., a sort of churchwarden or deacon-and having, in consequence, a spiritual position to maintain, he was not ashamed to manifest publicly his interest in the things of salvation, and to come in haste to consult an unrecognised teacher about the way of attaining to eternal life. He "came running, and kneeled to" Christ. He thought it no discredit to a man, even to a young man, to care about his soul. He was willing to encounter the surprise or the ridicule of the thoughtless and indifferent, if only he could be guided, and could ascertain what was "lacking" to make him right with God, and to give him inward peace. And this, too, was a token for good. Then, again, he appears to have been of a naturally amiable and ingenuous disposition. "Jesus beholding him loved him." There are persons in the world whom you feel to be good, but whose temper and conduct do not render their goodness attractive. They repel you from religion, rather than invite you to it. To that class this young man, if his heart had really been given to God, would not have belonged. He was attractive as it was; how much more so would he have been if his natural beauty of character had been crowned and glorified by the possession of Christian grace! Scrutinise, then, narrowly this candidate for discipleship-this applicant for admission into the kingdom of heaven; consider the earnestness of his look and manner when he puts the inquiry to Christ; hear him affirm that he is pure from vice, and that he has kept the commandments of God from his youth up; observe the eye of the Saviour kindling into affection as it rests upon the young, ingenuous, pleading face and the modest bearing: remember, too, that at this time few if any of the upper classes had joined themselves to Jesus of Nazareth; and that this young ruler must have consequently

439

broken through much prejudice and opposition, before he could have cast himself down at the feet of Christ. And now what is your verdict? Is it not this ?-"Of all the men we have ever heard of as coming into contact with Christ, this man is by far the most promising. He just stands outside-barely outside-the gates of the kingdom of heaven; and greatly shall we be surprised and disappointed if he does not enter in."

From the character of the young ruler, it is natural to pass on to the consideration of our Saviour's treatment of him.

The counter-question, "Why callest thou me good?" was probably intended to prepare the way for the imposition upon the ruler of the severe but necessary command to part with his wealth. Knowing what we do of the claims made by Christ to absolute purity and sinlessness, it is impossible for us to believe that he denied himself here. The young man seems to have felt, as Nicodemus felt, that there was something more about Jesus than met the eye; that he was something more than a prophet. But the feeling was vague and dim, and needed to be made distinct, and called into exercise. With this object the question was asked, "Why callest thou me good?" the Saviour meaning, not-"I am not good, for God alone is good; and I have no claim to be considered Divine" (for to have said so would have been to contradict his other statements about himself), but, "What is your reason for calling me good? Have you considered why you give me this title? Remember that God alone is good. Remembering this, do you still apply the epithet to me? Do you indeed feel that I have a supernatural, a Divine character, to which you are bound to pay homage ?"

The question thus, if I understand it rightly, is not a disclaimer, but a virtual assertion of Deity, and intended to prepare the way for the command which is to follow.

Then the Saviour tests the young man with the commandments of the second table. Why of the second table? Perhaps, in order that he may realise how little comfort is to be found in the imaginary excellence of his character and life. But the force of the trial comes immediately after. Jesus perceived that an idol was enthroned in the questioner's heart. With all his beauty of natural character; with all his amiability; with all his propriety and purity of conduct, there was something which the young man loved more than he loved God. That something was his money. This idol, then, must be overthrown and broken. It was no time for half-measures. The salvation of a soul was at stake, and the man must be led up to the crisis of a final decision, and made to choose, then and there, between his idol and his God. Does this seem severe treatment? Doubtless it did to the man who was the subject of it. He

would ask himself why such a demand should be made upon him and not upon others. He would remember that his property had not been acquired by unrighteousness; that he had been no oppressor or extortioner. Why, then, should he be required to surrender it? It was too much, this demand of Christ. Was there no other way in which eternal life could be won than by such an act of portentous self-sacrifice? And the great Physician stood pitying by, watching the inward conflict as it raged in the young man's soul; but he could not lower his terms. It was a case for the knife and the cautery; God must be chosen, and the world left; and that now. And so the conditions remain unchanged: "Sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come and follow me."

We pass on again; and now our topic shall be the young man's fault, or sin.

He erred, then, in forming too high an estimate of his own goodness. Had he been pressed by a sense of sin, he would gladly have left his gold to flee to Christ. But, though he was not quite at ease -not at peace--he had obviously not arrived at an understanding of his true position in the sight | of God. He erred again, in a preference of things visible to things invisible. Jesus promised him that, if he surrendered his earthly treasure, he should have treasure in heaven. But he could not bring himself to believe that the compensation was adequate. "What was treasure in heaven?" we might imagine him saying. "Nobody knows. It is something fantastical, illusory, unreal. But money -we all of us understand what the value of money is, and what happiness it brings to the possessor." So, unlike Moses, who esteemed the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures in Egypt, the young ruler turned away from Christ, because he could not bear to sacrifice the present to the future: the seen to the unseen. He erred again in disobedience to Christ. The words of our Saviour imply, not the recommendation of a friend, but the command of One who claims to be implicitly obeyed. "Go and sell that thou hast," was an injunction which left the young man no

option of refusal. But, though Christ, as we have seen, had prepared the way for this attitude of authority which he assumed, the ruler failed to recognise the authority. He behaved as if he were at liberty to act according to his own inclination. He assumed to himself the power of rejecting the terms: and in this was the germ and beginning of rebellion against the will and authority of God. Put all these things together-the undue estimate of self: the preference of the world to God; the unwillingness to recognise the Lordship of Christand you have explanation enough of the departure of this promising young man from the presence of the Saviour.

It is a painful narrative that we have been considering; and if there is one lesson more than another which it is calculated to convey, it is the lesson of the insufficiency for the higher purposes of the soul of mere excellence of character, and of mere outward religious observance. If the Atlantic cable were just a mile too short, and could not possibly be lengthened, it would be absurd to expatiate upon the beauty of its construction, and upon the skill with which it had been laid in the hidden depths of the sea. It might be very good in itself; it might be admirably arranged; but it would be utterly useless for the purpose for which it was intended, that of connecting the Old World and the New. And our morality may be good in itselfgood as far as it goes; but if it does not go so far as to connect this world with the other, it is futile to make a boast about it. What is wanted by us is the possession of a supernatural life—a life only to be attained by union with the personal Christ: and this union depends upon our readiness to make, what this poor young ruler could not bring himself to make-a sacrifice of self, of everything, for the sake of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Yes! it is sad to see such promise ending in disappointment; to see a man coming so near, and yet falling short. And as he departs, the words of the apostle seem to ring in our ears: “Let us therefore fear, lest, a promise being left us of entering into his rest, any of you should seem to come short of it."

IN MEMORIA M

J. C. G.

EAPERS grew faint amidst the corn,
And summer flowers drooped forlorn,
When Death's black shade one sultry morn,
With ravage fell,

Cut down our pride-the eldest born
We loved so well!

Six years ago with purpose stern
He left our hearth, his bread to earn,
Where tropic noons terrific burn,

And night winds damp Invade from growths of giant fern The exile's camp.

Yet all those years around Bareilly,
From level waste to upland hilly,
As gay as any Highland gilly,
By Dee or Don,

Through fever-fit and ague chilly,
He struggled on;

[graphic][merged small][merged small]
[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

A STORY IN FIVE CHAPTERS. BY THE REV. P. B. POWER, M.A., AUTHOR OF "THE OILED FEATHER,"
JOHN CLIPSTICK'S CLOCK,' THE 'I WILLS' OF THE PSALMS," ETC. ETC.

CHAPTER IV.

99 66

HE fact of the tailor's family having
been attacked with fever was not
long in reaching the ears of their
next-door neighbour-the brewer's

man.

there be no little ones to draw them to the sur face, and cause them to bud and blossom into beauty, and teem richly with ripe golden fruit. Mrs. Taps, would have been very glad to have been the owner of little Dot; and would not have pinched the windpipe of one of the little Patches That benevolent individual received-no, not if her husband had beaten her almost the intelligence with uproarious delight, drinking to death for not hating them as much as he off a pot of porter on the receipt thereof, by way of did, and for not hurting them when she got the congratulating himself that now at last the tailor's chance. singing would be stopped; and his windpipe effectually pinched. "The fellow may caw like a crow," said the brewer's man; "for make a noise of some kind I suppose he must, from his very nature; but he'll sing no more; all his tunes are knocked out of him, world without end." All that Mr. Taps hoped was that the fever would be long and strong, and knock down every one of the Patches, and pinch the windpipes of the whole family. Mr. Taps might have thought something more amiable than this, under his poor neighbour's present sad circumstances; but seeing this was what he thought, we are in duty bound to set it down here.

But in this frame of mind Mrs. Taps and her husband were not wholly one. Although she had no children, still she had a woman's heart, and those deep instincts of motherhood which lie hidden down in the heart's inmost depths, even though

She was now, therefore, very sorry to hear that her poor neighbours were in such trouble; and if opportunity offered, she felt as though she should be glad to lend them a helping hand.

For a long time Mrs. Taps had been much puzzled at this singing of the tailor's; they never sang, though they were ever so much better off: and why should he, with ever so much more to bear? But would he sing now? she would listen carefully. He used to say it was the Lord made him sing; and that the Lord's mercies would never fail; and he would sing to the end of his life; and perhaps die singing; and maybe enter heaven singing. This would be a good trial of him; she'd watch and sce.

Right glad would Mrs. Taps have been to go in and help to nurse little Jack, or to take Dot off her mother's hands for a while; but she dared not go near her afflicted neighbours, for her husband had

THE BAG OF BLESSINGS.

told her, with his fist in her face, that she had better have nothing to do with them. But this did not hinder her listening, or perhaps asking Mr. Patch a question, if he happened to be walking in his little garden.

Very carefully did Mrs. Taps listen, but no singing could she now hear in the tailor's house. She often hoped to hear his voice; it would be comfortable to think that the poor folk were not overwhelmed altogether; moreover, she wanted to know whether there was a real bottom to this religion of Patch's-whether it had anything to stand upon at such a time as this; whether he had now comfortable thoughts of God. For if he had, then Mrs. Taps had serious thoughts as to whether such a religion as that of Patch's should be neglected-whether it would not be a much more comfortable and useful one than her own. Whenever she and her husband had a stray thought of God, it made them miserable, but Patch said that thoughts of God made him happy-well, if they did so now, and he could sing as usual, she would believe in John Patch's religion, and see about serving John Patch's God.

Little did the tailor know how much was depending upon his living up to his principles in this hour of trial-more was hanging on it than he knew, or than Mrs. Taps knew either.

And, good reader, this is often the case. The consistent bearing of a Christian is often more eloquent than any sermon; and little Patch was as much a preacher as if he had on a gown and bands, and were perched in a pulpit, with a beadle to open the door to let him in; and to open the door, and let him out again. Ay, and little Patch was also to give the blessing too.

The minister when he has done preaching, says, "The peace of God, which passeth all understand ing, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge

and love of God and of his Son Jesus Christ our Lord; and the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, be with you, and rest with you always. Amen." That's what he says-and this is what John Patch said, only instead of blessing in so many words, and with a minister's dress on, he had to do it now without being even shaved, and just with keeping on as he had been always accustomed to, praising God, and trusting him.

When no sound of song had been heard for some days in the tailor's house, even though Mrs. Taps had carefully applied her ear to the wall in places where she knew she could hear right well, she began to fear that her neighbour's religion was not much better after all than other people's, and that it could not carry him through this trial. Not that she blamed the tailor, oh dear no! nothing of the kind; she herself would not have sung under the circumstances, and it was most unreasonable to

443

make any kind of claim that he should do so; only, if it had so happened that he had kept on singing, and that his windpipe had not been pinched, she would have been glad; and it would have confirmed some thoughts she had of seeking a different religion from that she had now.

Thus meditating one day, Mrs. Taps observed her neighbour going to the little shed at the end of his garden, where he kept his garden tools, and also had a boiler for some of his clothes-cleaning operations.

Suddenly the thought flashed across her mind, "I have seen Patch go in there much oftener of late than usual; perhaps he's going to sing there. Well now, what a stupid I am, how could the poor fellow sing in his house, and disturb the sick child? I'll go and listen." So creeping softly along the wall, she put herself in such a position as would enable her to hear any sound within the shed.

Mrs. Taps had not to wait long. Presently she heard the tailor's voice in prayer-earnest prayer and by it she gathered that little Jack was approaching the crisis, and the question of life and death would soon be settled. The tailor prayed for little Jack, for Jane, and Dot, and for his wife; and to Mrs. Taps's astonishment, prayed for her and her husband, and that such illness coming so near them would make them think about eternal things.

Ah! many a one could pray under such cir cumstances as Patch's, but, oh dear! to think that he shouldn't be swallowed up in his own troubles and his child's, and not think of any one else, as most people would do under the circumstances, this was something wonderful-it was a part of that religion of Patch's which was so different from theirs. But would he sing? nothing would make up for the loss of that; that would complete

the wonder.

Mrs. Taps had not to wait long. The utmost the tailor could do in the house was to hum a tune; but here he could let himself out as usual in a full swing of song. Forth it came loud and clear, and no mistake.

"Up to the Lord that reigns on high,
And views the nations from afar,
Let everlasting praises fly,

And tell how large His bounties are.
Our sorrows and our tears we pour
Into the bosom of our God,

He hears us in the mournful hour
And helps us bear the heavenly load.
Oh, could our thankful hearts desire,
A tribute equal to Thy grace,

To the third heaven our song should rise
And teach the golden harps Thy praise."

"Eh," said Mrs. Taps, "with all our mercies, our praises don't get so high as the chimney-pot; and here's Patch, with his child dying, and he

« PreviousContinue »