Chapter XV (2)

+III. Every scorner, therefore, is a self-destroyer.+ A man commits suicide if, when he is sick, he refuses to use the means by which he might be healed. If he die, he takes away his life as truly as if he thrust a sword through his body. He is not accountable for his disease, but he is responsible and blameworthy for neglecting means of cure within his reach. So with men in relation to spiritual knowledge. Ignorance is a crime only when the means of enlightenment are within reach. He who scorns to avail himself of those means, he who will not submit to reproof, he who rejects the invitation and despises the threatenings of Divine Wisdom (see chap. i. 20-33) is a moral suicide. (See also on chap. xiv. 6, page 346.)

_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._

Men should "run to and fro to increase knowledge" (Dan. xii. 4). The Shunamite rode ordinarily to the prophet on the Sabbaths and other holy days (2 Kings iv. 23). Those good souls in Psalm lxxxiv. 7 passed on "from strength to strength," setting the best foot forwards for like purpose; yea, those that were weak and unfit for travel would be brought to the ordinances upon "horses, in chariots, and in litters" (Isa. lxvi. 20). But now the scorner holds it not worth while to put himself to these pains, and is ready to say with Jeroboam, "It is too much for men to go up to Jerusalem," to go up "to the mountain of the Lord, to learn His ways" (Isa. ii. 3). Yea, he set watches to observe who would go from him to Judah to worship, that he might shame them at least, if not slay them (Hos. v. 1). He would never have gone to the prophet to be reproved, and when the prophet came to him, he stretched out his hand to apprehend him. So Herod had a desire to see Christ, but could never find a heart to go to hear him; and yet our Saviour looked that men should have come as far to Him as the Queen of Sheba came to Solomon.--_Trapp._

Here is instruction for all men, to observe the state of their own souls, and the better, when occasion is offered, to inform themselves of others by the company which they most delight to frequent. He that delighteth to associate himself with good men, is never to be deemed a friend to evil ways, and he that embraceth the fellowship of sinful persons, must needs be judged an enemy to godly behaviour. When David would clear himself to be none of the wicked, he made it fully manifest by this, _that he went not with vain persons, neither kept company with dissemblers: that he hated the assembly of the evil and companioned not with the wicked._ When he would prove himself to be one of the righteous, he evidently confirmed it by this, that _he was a companion of all them that feared the Lord and kept His precepts.--Dod._

There is none that loveth more truly, that loveth more profitably, than he that lovingly reproveth what he seeth amiss. And yet there is none that a scorner loveth less. But what marvel if he loveth not another, that loveth not himself! Where scorning is, there can be no love, that was never love's disposition. Let no one that reproveth a scorner look for love from him. . . . But let the wise reprove him notwithstanding, and as St. Cyprian speaketh, if they cannot persuade him, to make him to please Christ, let themselves perform to Christ that which is their part, and let them please Christ by keeping his commandments.--_Jermin._

_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 13.

A CHEERFUL FACE AND A BROKEN SPIRIT.

+I. The outer man is to a large extent an index of the inner life.+ The joy of the heart is made visible upon the countenance. This is one of the infinitely kind and wise arrangements of God which minister so much to human happiness. We have but to consider the influence of a cheerful face to know how great a blessing it is that a merry heart maketh a cheerful countenance. "How blank would be the aspect of the world," says Dr. Arnot, "if no image of a man's thought could ever be seen glancing through his countenance! Our walk through life would be like a solitary walk through a gallery of statues--as cold as marble, and not nearly so beautiful."

+II. The effect of sorrow upon the human spirit.+ It _"breaks"_ it. When a vessel's timbers are shivered by the fury of the storm she may not go to pieces altogether. But she is no longer able to hold her own against the elements, which she could once use as forces to convey her from land to land. If she were now to put to sea, instead of riding over the waves and making them her servants, she would be a passive thing in their hands, a mere helpless bundle of timbers to be tossed whithersoever they pleased, instead of "walking the waters like a thing of life." So it is with the human spirit when the cross seas and angry winds of adverse circumstances have quenched the hope and paralysed the energy that once governed and inspired the man. He is no longer able to face the storms of life, and outride them, or even make them advance his interests. He is passive amid the changes and chances of mortal life, and they drift him on wheresoever they will. But this can never be the case unless a man has lost faith in the character of God and his own high and immortal destiny. Then, indeed, the elements which he was built to rule will rule him, and he will fail to fulfil the end for which God launched him on the sea of life.

_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._

I have always preferred cheerfulness to mirth. The latter I consider as an act, the former as a habit, of the mind.--_Addison._

The _"sorrow of heart"_ here spoken of, we may consider as that which arises from an evil conscience, from envy, discontent, and other similar sources.--_Wardlaw._

A "merry" or "glad" heart is one of the attributes of piety. It (literally) _"does good to the countenance," improves it,_ as we say in our idiom, "Come with us, and we will do thee good" (Numb. x. 29).--_Miller._

This word _merriment_ is of frequent use among our old writers. It is Foxe's favourite description of the holy joy of the martyrs.--_Bridges._

It sits smiling in the face, and looks merrily out of the windows of the eyes. But this is not till faith has healed the conscience, and till grace has hushed the affections, and composed all within. Stephen looked like an angel when he stood before the council (Acts vi. 15); and the apostles went away rejoicing (Acts v. 41). There are that rejoice in the face only, and not in the heart (2 Cor. v. 12); this is but hypocrisy of mirth, and we may be sure that many a man's heart bleeds within him when his face counterfeits a smile. It is for an Abraham only to laugh for joy of the promise, and for a David to "rejoice at the word as one that findeth great spoil" (Psalms cxix. 162), wherein the pleasure is usually as much as the profit. Christ's chariot, wherein he carries people up and down in the world, and brings them at length to Himself, is "paved with love" (Cant. iii. 9, 10); He brings them also into His wine cellar (Cant. ii. 4), where He cheers up their hearts, and clears up their countenances, and this is Heaven beforehand. These are some few clusters of the grapes of the celestial Canaan. But as the looks are marred, so the spirits are dulled and disabled by sorrow, as a limb out of joint can do nothing without deformity or pain. Dejection takes off the wheels of the soul, hinders comfortable intercourse with God, and that habitual cheerfulness, that Sabbath of the spirit, that every man should strive to enjoy. Afflictions, saith one, are the wind of the soul, passions the storm. The soul is well carried when neither so becalmed that it moves not when it should, nor yet tosses with tempests of wrath, grief, fear, etc., to move disorderly. Of these we must be careful to crush the very first insurrections; storms rise out of little gusts, but the top of those mountains above the middle region are so quiet that ashes, lightest things, are not moved out of place.--_Trapp._

Mirth and cheerfulness make a man not only fitter for the occasions of this world, but even for spiritual affairs also. Wherefore Elisha calleth for a minstrel that, being angry with the king of Israel, by the melody of the music a more soft and sweet disposition might possess him. . . . "Joy," saith Aquinas, "is, as it were, a juice spreading itself over the whole man, dispersing the comfort of itself to all the faculties of the soul, and all parts of the body." But, now, what is it that maketh a merry heart? Surely not the things of this world. They only do beset the heart with a dream of mirth, they do only make the heart drunken with some flushings of joy. A merry heart indeed is that which the assurance of God's favour rejoiceth, and that will make the countenance cheerful in any trouble, even in death itself. It is true also that by sorrow of heart the spirit is broken, the heart and the spirit being but one string of life. But what is it by which the heart should be made sorrowful? Surely not the things of this life, seeing the life of the heart is so far above them. For it is a shameful folly to hurt a better thing for that which is far worse. No; nothing should make the heart sorrowful but repentance for sin, and as that casteth down the spirit, so will it raise it up again. Wherefore Augustine saith, "Let the penitent always be grieved, and let him rejoice for his grief." Nothing should make the heart sad but the fear of God's displeasure, and if that break the spirit, it will heal it again with endless consolation.--_Jermin._

The principal thought of verse 14 is a repetition in a slightly varied form of a truth that has been considered before. (See on chap. xii. 1, xiii. 18, etc.)

_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._

They are the wisest men that are most sensible of the imperfection of their wisdom.--_Lawson._

_"The mouth of fools feed,"_ etc., literally, _pastures,_ like a brute. A thing fed takes the texture of its nourishment. The _"mouth"_ or _"face"_ (see Critical Notes) of the fool grows more and more inane and brutal.--_Miller._

As a hungry man seeks meat, or a covetous man gold, the more he hath the more he desires. Moses was no sooner off the mount where he had seen God face to face, but he cries, "Lord, show me Thy glory!" David, that knew more than his teachers, cries ever and anon, "Teach me Thy statutes." Job prefers knowledge before his necessary food (chap. xxiii. 12). The wise man finds no such sweetness in the most delicate and dainty dishes, as in the search after Divine knowledge (Psa. cxix. 103). Even Aristotle saith that a little knowledge, though conjectural, about heavenly things is to be preferred above knowledge, though certain, about earthly things. And Agur saith it is to ascend into heaven (Prov. xxx. 4).--_Trapp._

_First,_ because the one sort is after the spirit, and therefore they favour the things of the spirit; and the other sort is after the flesh, and therefore they favour the things of the flesh. _Secondly,_ because the one sort is guided by judgment, and choose that which will comfort their consciences; and the other is altogether led by lust, and seek only that which will satisfy their senses. _Thirdly,_ faith makes the one sort to cast an eye to that which will follow hereafter; and sensuality causeth the other (like brute beasts, made to be destroyed) only to look to that which is present.--_Dod._

Knowledge is necessary for us, not only to manage the affairs of this life, but also to perform the service of our Maker. Conscience may dictate to us that things are right or wrong, but conscience may be mistaken in her decisions, unless she call in reason to her assistance, for a clear knowledge of the revealed will of God cannot be understood without application of mind. . . . The desire of knowledge is in some sense natural to us all and is manifested very soon. We see how early curiosity exerts itself in lively children. But this natural desire may be misused. 1. _It may be too little._ Some persons do not desire knowledge so much as they ought, especially they are negligent in acquiring religious knowledge. This negligence may proceed from too warm a pursuit of other things. But what will this world avail us, if we are excluded from an inheritance in the next? It may proceed from mere sloth. But the unprofitable servant, who suffers his talents to lie useless, is to be cast into outer darkness. 2. _It may be too much._ Some things there are which we ought not to know, and a vain curiosity after them is an abuse of our natural desire of knowledge. This curiosity brought on the fall of our first parents, and still reigns among their posterity. Sin should only be known, as the rocks at sea, that they may be avoided. It becomes us also to be contented with such a knowledge of the Divine nature, and the Divine administration, as we are capable of acquiring, and of future events so far as God hath seen fit to reveal them.--_Jortin._

The mouth of fools--the mouth of their souls and understandings--feedeth upon anything; even foolishness itself is good food unto them. Their distempered palate judgeth not the worth of things. They have a mouth to receive knowledge, but they have not a heart to consider and discern what they do receive. None is so ill a feeder as fools. Such fools are they in the prophet Isaiah who say, "Prophesy not unto us, right things speak unto us," as the original word is, _bland_ things, pleasing things; but the word signifieth in the first place _scattered_ things, such as coming from a scattered brain have no order and aim at no material point. Or else scattered things which may strike at none, which may hurt none, do no good to any. And, indeed, too many such there are. The world is full of speakers and talkers, that speak things they know not, and teach things they have not learned.--_Jermin._

The Queen of Sheba, "coming from the utmost parts of the earth;" Nicodemus and Mary, "sitting at the feet of Jesus;" the Eunuch, journeying to Jerusalem; Cornelius and his company drinking in the precious message of salvation; the Bereans, carefully "searching the Scriptures," all these show _"the understanding heart seeking_ a larger interest in the blessing."--_Bridges._

That in "_seeking_ knowledge" the idea of feasting on it is included, is evident from the terms of the antithesis. It is a feast of "knowledge" above all, of _divine knowledge_. He who has "understanding,"--who is enlightened of God, and discerns the excellency and glory of divine truth--_"seeketh"_ such knowledge. From experience of the joy already imparted by it, he seeks more and still more--the appetite growing by gratification, delighted with every new discovery, yet never tiring of the old (1 Pet. ii. 1-3). "But the mouth of fools _feedeth on_ foolishness." That is what they like; that is therefore what they seek, and from which they have their own poor and pitiful enjoyment. In regard to _religion itself_ they are taken with everything that serves the present purpose of keeping all quiet within; that lets conscience alone; that dispenses with serious thought, and preventing inward disturbance, allows them to go on easily and comfortably. They have a relish for all doctrines of this unannoying description--that "prick not" their hearts; that embitter not present sweets by any forebodings of the future; that "prophesy smooth things, and cause the Holy One of Israel to cease from before them"--the _scarer_ of their thoughtless mirth and sinful gratification. They have an appetite for everything of that kind.--_Wardlaw._

_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 15.

THE CONTINUAL FEAST.

+I. All men have days of affliction.+ They may be traced to one of four sources--1. _Men are afflicted by reason of their relation to the first head of the human race._ Every man inherits bodily weaknesses of some kind--is, in apostolic phrase, made subject to vanity (Rom. viii. 20) of some kind or another for which he is not personally responsible--which is not the fruit of his own character or conduct, nor of that of his immediate ancestors. Mental sorrows are also born of this remote relationship. The human mind is not now what it was when it came first from the hand of its Creator. God at the beginning made man perfect--his spirit was a reflection of the perfect law of God, and all within was consequently harmony and peace. But it is not so now, even with the best of the human race. There has been a subjection to vanity through sin, and this is the fruitful source of much mental pain and sorrow to all men, although they are often unconscious of the origin of the darkness that envelops their spirit. 2. _Men are afflicted by reason of their immediate relationships._ A child who has a bad father suffers much and grievously, the father who owns a wicked child often has many days of deep affliction. A nation may be deeply afflicted by reason of the viciousness or unwisdom of its rulers. Many and various are the afflictions which come to men through those to whom they are related, whether by family or national ties. 3. _Afflictions arise from personal transgression of God's laws._ These transgressions may be either of a negative or positive character--they may consist in doing what we ought not to do, or in leaving undone that which it is our duty to do. Much affliction comes to men because they have neglected to do for mind, body, or estate that which they are commanded by God to do. Men who neglect to work, or who neglect to conform to the laws by which their mind or their body is governed, must pay the penalty, and often suffer much affliction from the mere neglect of duty. And much more will those know days of affliction who are positive transgressors of any Divine law, whether physical or moral. 4. _Affliction comes to men sometimes by Divine permission, either to chasten men for sin or to increase the goodness of their characters._ Affliction came to Job, and he had many evil days, not because he was a sinner, but because he was a saint. Good man as he was, he had many days of affliction--days which were to him very evil--but they arose neither from his remote or immediate relationships, nor from personal or relative transgression, but were the outcome of Satanic agency, acting by Divine permission.

+II. Days of affliction are evil days.+ While the patient is under the knife of the surgeon he is undergoing an experience which is in itself an evil, which is an experience to be dreaded and avoided if possible, however good may be the days of health which are the result of it. No one can feel that affliction in itself is anything but an evil--much good may come out of it, but that does not make the actual suffering of body or mind good in itself. If the sufferings of the present life were unconnected with the blessings which will spring out of them, if they were not regarded in the light of Divine revelation they would be unmitigated evils.

+III. Evil days work good to him who can rise above them.+ If a seaman can be cheerful and hopeful in the midst of a storm, he is all the better for having passed through it. His courage is strengthened and his experience is enlarged, he is more of a man than before he entered into conflict with the winds and waves. While others have been overwhelmed with terror, he has been full of a calm self-possession, and that which has shown how weak many men are, has shown how strong he is. But in order thus to rise above outward circumstances, there must be internal resources. Only those can come through the storms of life stronger and the better for having passed through them who have an unfailing well of hope and comfort within. The martyrs of old revealed that they had a continual feast within, although they had many days of affliction without. Their "merry hearts," filled with true and unfailing gladness, lifted them above the bitterness and evil of their circumstances. Thus to glory in tribulation is to take "meat out of the eater and sweetness out of the strong." But only those can practise this art who, like their Master, "have meat to eat" of which men in general "know not of" (John iv. 32).

_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._

The feast of him who is of "a merry heart," who has within himself the sources of true joy, is not terminated--is not even suspended--in the season of affliction. _His_ feast is independent of changing condition. He often relishes it most when other sweets are embittered. Often is his inward spiritual festivity the richest, when the supply of his outward and earthly comforts is scantiest.--_Wardlaw._

Affliction, as the fruit and chastening of sin, is an evil. . . . Though the abounding consolation of Christian affliction does not blot out its penal character, yet the child of God is not so miserable as he seems to be (2 Cor. vi. 10). The darkest of these _evil days_ can never make the consolations of God small with him (Job xv. 11). He can sing in the prison (Acts xvi. 25), can "take joyfully the spoiling of his goods" (Heb. x. 34), can praise his God when He has stripped him naked (Job i. 21). What real _evil_ then can affliction bring? Or rather what does it bring but many feast days? A few days' feasting would soon weary the epicure. But here the _merry heart hath a continual feast.--Bridges._

_"All the days of the toiling are evil, but a good heart is a continual feast."_ A glorious comparison! A sour heart is fed by a hard life; and yet, though the hard life is common to all, a brightened spirit masters it, and not only masters it but sweetens it. _Toiling._ the word is very peculiar. _"Afflicted"_ our version has it. _"Humble"_ is the translation in many cases. Toiling strikes us best, (1) because such is the root--the verb, first of all, means to _toil_--and (2) because such is the sense; the toiling character of life makes all groan together. We are not paid. Such is the toil of our spirits that life is a battle. As a worldly maxim, _"a good heart"_ carries the day; but, as an adopted text, the wise saw strengthens itself. Under the toils of life, _"a good heart,"_ regenerate by grace, greets the same toil the lost man does, and finds the _"heart"_ itself _"a continual feast."--Miller._

This is diligently to be observed, that none can have a cheerful mind indeed but only such as, through faith in Christ having peace with God, pollute not their consciences with detestable iniquities. For indeed evils enter into such to trouble their minds, to profane their joys, and to pull them from the continual feast of security here spoken of, who either walk in the committing of gross offences, or are close hypocrites and dissemblers.--_Muffet._

He that hath a heart merry in a good contentment can always invite himself to a full feast. When he hath not wherewith to feast others--yea, even when he wanteth perhaps what to eat, he wanteth not wherewith to feast himself. It is not a feast that must have time to provide it, and to make it ready, and which, being ready, is soon passed over; but it is a continual feast, ever ready, and never ended.--_Jermin._

The sincere heart, the quiet conscience, will not only stand under greatest pressure, as did St. Paul (2 Cor. i. 9-12), but goes as merrily to die in a good cause as ever he did to dine, as did divers martyrs. Be the air clear or cloudy, he enjoys a continual serenity, and sits continually at that blessed feast, whereat the blessed angels are cooks and butlers, as Luther hath it, and the three Persons in the Trinity gladsome guests. Mr. Latimer saith the assurance of heaven is the sweetmeats of this feast. There are other dainty dishes, but this is the banquet. Saith St. Bernard, "Wilt thou, O man, never be sad? wilt thou turn thy whole life into a merry festival? get and keep a good conscience." A good man keeps a holiday all the year about.--_Trapp._

So far as we would live a comfortable life, we should seek to build up our inward man more than our outward estates; that our hearts be better furnished than our houses, and our consciences than our coffers, that our stock of faith and everlasting goodness may exceed our store of coin and temporal goods: and so shall we be fenced against all perils, and provided for against all wants, and secured against all accidents whatsoever.--_Dod._

_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 16.

A TREASURE WITHOUT TROUBLE.

+The fear of the Lord is better than worldly treasures--+I. _Because the fear of the Lord tends to peace of mind._ In any piece of complicated machinery the condition of the internal works is a much more important matter than the ornamenting of the exterior. It is of much more consequence that all within a timepiece should move in harmony than that it should have a golden face or be set with jewels. It is of more importance to a man that all his internal bodily organs should be in perfect health than that he should be possessed of much external beauty. A strong frame, and pure blood, and health of body will minister much more effectually to his comfort than the most comely countenance. And the state of a man's inner life has infinitely more to do with his real happiness than his external circumstances. He who has the fear of the Lord has the foundation-stone of peace within, and he who has that does not need an abundance of that which can only minister to the outer man. A little material wealth will content him who has the rich inheritance of a peaceful and contented spirit. Peace with God and love to man are included in the fear of the Lord, and neither the one nor the other of these good and perfect gifts can be bought with the treasure of this world. The first is the very salt of life without which all else is insipid and insufficient to satisfy the cravings of the human soul, and where the first is there will the second, which is also a great sweetener of poverty--(see ver. 17), be found also. II. _Because of the trouble that is inseparable from worldly wealth._ The treasure of this world has a certain value--it can do much for a man, both intellectually and materially. It can be so used by him as to bring blessings upon himself and others; but it is never unaccompanied by drawbacks. 1. There is trouble in _getting_ it. The bare sufficiency to sustain life may be got without much strain or anxiety; but if a man sets out to make a fortune, he must be content to have many cares and anxieties--many weary days and sleepless nights--before he obtains his object. Those that _will_ be rich cannot avoid much real trouble in carrying out their determination. 2. There is trouble _after it is gotten._ When men have accumulated great treasure they are not freed from trouble in connection with it. There is the care of retaining it, the desire, and almost the necessity, of increasing it. The more a man has the more he generally desires, and the more he seems to need. New demands are the outcome of a new position, and he who has amassed great treasure rarely contents himself with what he has, but strains every nerve to make the much, _more._ 3. There is great trouble attendant on its _loss._ Even if a rich man possesses the higher wealth--the fear of the Lord--he is more to be pitied if he loses his worldly wealth than a poor man is. The fall is so much greater, as the height from which he has fallen so far exceeds that from which a poor man can fall the hope of climbing it again is so much fainter, and he is in a more helpless and hopeless condition than his brother, who had but little to lose. But if he is destitute of the real treasure of human existence, then he has trouble without any compensation. He can say with Micah, "Ye have taken away my gods and what have I left?"

_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._

The preposition gives choice of meanings. It may be, _by "the fear of Jehovah,"_ in which case it would mean the "little" earned by piety; or it may be "_in_ the fear of Jehovah;" in which case it would mean the little held and got possession of in a devout state; or it may be _"along with,"_ as the word often means. All the ideas are correct. We choose as our English version, and, of course, for both parts of the sentence; for the expression "therewith," has the same familiar preposition, and the same chance of either of the alternative meanings. _"Better"_ is a Christian's shieling, than an impenitent man's palace (chap. xiv. 11). And that, not on account of heaven alone, but for the intrinsic joys of piety (see next verse).--_Miller._

Judas is bursar, and he shuts himself into his pouch; the more he hath, the more he covets. The apostles, that wanted money, are not so having: Judas hath the bag, and yet he must have more, or he will filch it. So impossible is it that these outward things should satisfy the heart of man. _Soli habitent omnia qui habent habentem omnia_--They alone possess all things that possess the possessor of all things. The nature of true content is to fill all the chinks of our desires, as the wax doth the seal. None can do this but God, for (as it is well observed) the world is round, man's heart three-cornered: a globe can never fill a triangle, but one part will still be empty; only the blessed Trinity can fill these three corners of a man's heart. . . . The bag never comes alone, but brings with it cares, saith Christ (Matt. xiii. 22); snares, saith Paul (1 Tim. vi. 9). . . . It is none of God's least favours, that wealth comes not trolling in upon us; for many of us, if our estate were better to the world, would be worse to God. The poor labourer hath not time to luxuriate: he trusts in God to bless his endeavours, and so rests content; but the bag commonly makes a man a prodigal man, or a prodigious man; for a covetous man is a monster. . . . It is no argument of God's favour to be His purse-bearer; no more than it was a sign that Christ loved Judas above the other apostles because he made him His steward: He gave the rest grace, and him the bag; which sped best? The outward things are the scatterings of His mercies, like the gleaning after the vintage: the full crop goes to His children.--_T. Adams._

Here also we trace the harmony of wisdom, _i.e.,_ of the Divine Word, speaking through many different channels, and in different tones. The proverb has its completion in the teaching which bids us "seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness" (Matt. vi. 33), and finds echoes in the maxims of the wise among other nations who have uttered like thoughts.--_Plumptre._

It is not the great cage that makes the bird sing. It is not the great estate that brings always the inward joy--the cordial contentment. The little lark with a wing sees farther than the ox with a bigger eye, but without a wing. Birds use not to sing when they are on the ground, but when got into the air, or on tops of trees. If saints be sad, it is because they are too busy here below. . . . If the bramble bear rule, fire will arise out of it that will consume the cedars; the lean kine will soon eat up the fat, and it shall not be seen by them. It is hard to handle these thorns hard and not to prick one's fingers. Riches, though well got, are but as manna; those that gathered less had no want, and those that gathered more, it was but a trouble and annoyance to them.--_Trapp._

_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 17.

TWO FEASTS.

+I. The equality here existing between the poor man and the rich man--they both have a dinner.+ This is as it ought to be. God gave the earth to the children of men, and when He enriched them with this large donation He intended that every living creature upon the earth should have enough to eat every day. When men lack sufficient food it is not because there is any lack in God's gifts, either of herbs or oxen. When both the rich man and the poor man are fed out of the abundance of God's gifts His Divine purpose in giving them is accomplished.

+II. The inequality between the dinner of the poor man and that of the rich.+ The poor man is sustained upon the same kind of food as the rich man's ox is fattened upon. In common with the beast he lives upon the produce of the earth. The rich man eats the ox which has been fed upon that which is the only food of the poor man. This is not as it should be. God never intended that one part of His human family would enjoy a monopoly of any of the food which He has provided. When He gave the earth into the hands of the first man He intended that all His children should be partakers of all the kinds of food which the earth afforded, and which were suited to the part of the world in which they lived. When it is otherwise it arises from sin, either personal or relative. Poverty does not always spring from indolence, or from inability to subdue the earth, and to obtain from it a full share of all that it affords, and when it does not, the man who is compelled to eat a dish of herbs while his neighbour feasts from the stalled ox, is either sinned against in the present, or has been sinned against in the past.

+III. Opposite states of mind which more than compensate the poor man for his humbler meal.+ Hatred takes away all enjoyment from any of God's gifts. If a rich man bears malice against the guest whom he is entertaining at his table--if while he feeds him upon the best, he desires for him the worst--he knows nothing of the pleasures of hospitality. Hatred is murder in the germ, and he who harbours such a devil within his breast cannot possess that peace of soul without which the choicest viands cannot be enjoyed. But _love_ is a large compensation for a dinner of herbs. Love to husband or wife, to parent or to child, makes sweet every family meal, however homely the fare--that charity which _"seeketh not her own, thinketh no evil, beareth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things,"_ is a sauce to the humblest dish which one man can set before another, and more than lifts it above the rich man's feast given for the sake of custom or expediency to guests to whom he has not a particle of goodwill.

_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._

A feast of salads, or Daniel's pulse, is more cherishing with mercy, than Belshazzar's banquet without it.--_T. Adams._

Ruth and Naomi were happy when they lived on the gleanings of the field of Boaz, and in the fulness of their satisfaction poured their blessings on the head of him that allowed them the scanty pittance. . . . The conversation of friends is far pleasanter than any dish at the table. Where hatred is, there is silence or sullenness, or at least hollow mirth and tasteless ceremony; but where love and the fear of God are, the table conversation is delightful and useful. We find even a heathen poet reflecting on the pleasures of such an entertainment. (_O noctes cœnœque deûm!_--Hor.) How blessed were the disciples of our Lord, when they sat at meat with Him! Barley loaves and fishes were probably ordinary fare with them, but they were entertained with Divine discourse. Such pleasure as they enjoyed we cannot now expect; but His religion is admirably fitted to promote our present happiness, for love is His great commandment.--_Lawson._

The sentiment is applicable, with a special force of emphasis, to _domestic life._ In proportion to the delightful sweetness of the concord in which the fond affections of nature and grace bind the members of a family in one happy social circle--all being of one heart and of one soul--dividing the cares and more than doubling the enjoyments of life by mutual participation and sympathy, all bosoms throbbing with a common pulsation, all lips wearing a common smile, and all eyes filled from a common fountain of tears, in proportion to the delightful sweetness of such a scene is the wretchedness of its reverse; and there is no one who has experienced either the sweetness or the wretchedness--especially the former--that will not subscribe to the sentiment so simply yet so strongly expressed.--_Wardlaw._

_"An allowance of vegetables."_ Not only _"vegetables,"_ but the lighter sorts of them; more nearly _"herbs;"_ not only light fare, like that, but a _limited amount;_ not only _flesh_ on the other scale, but _"stalled"_ beef; not only _"stalled" beef,_ but no limit; "_a stalled_ ox." Not only might this well be a worldly proverb to represent the married state, and all the arena of human affection, but signal when brought into religion. _"A dinner of herbs;"_ with the blessed _"love"_ of the Redeemer, is better than a pampered feast and the gloom of the impenitent.--_Miller._

If love be the entertainer, it matters not much what the provision be: if true friendship be set upon the table of his heart that inviteth thee, let that make thee to esteem well of whatsoever is set on the table before thee. Thou comest with a gluttonous appetite--not the affection of a friend--if thy cheer be that which thou lookest after. Wherefore, then, though it be a dinner of herbs, yet if they come from love's garden it is worthy of thine acceptance: thou mayest be sure that no serpent lies hid in those herbs. If it be but so smaller a dinner as a _traveller_ taketh with him (see Critical Notes), yet if it bring affection with it, thou mayest be sure that no hurt is coming to thee. But if thy dinner be a fatted ox, and hatred be the hand that carveth it unto thee, perhaps it is but to fat thee for the like slaughter.--_Jermin._

Mark well, it is neither said in the Bible, nor found in experience, that they are all happy families who dine on herbs, and all unhappy who can afford to feast on a stalled ox. Some rich families live in love, and doubly enjoy their abundance; some poor families quarrel over their herbs. Riches cannot secure happiness, and poverty cannot destroy it. But such is the power of love, that with it you will be happy in the meanest estate; without it, miserable in the highest. Would you know the beginning, and the middle, and the end of this matter, the spring on high, the stream flowing through the channel of the covenant, and the fruitful outspread in a disciple's life below--they are all here, and all one--Charity:--+"God is Love,"+ _"Love is of God,"_ "Walk in love."--_Arnot._

There were many great feasts in the times of the apostles, and yet none of them are so much commended in the Scriptures as the meetings of believers, who did eat together _with gladness and singleness of heart,_ notwithstanding they had neither so much meat, nor so costly dishes, as divers others had. It is noted of Abraham that he entertained God and His angels to dinner. The Lord Himself would be his guest, since he would be so good a housekeeper; and yet the victuals which are mentioned are only butter and milk, the veal that had not time to cool between the killing and the dressing; notwithstanding his hospitality is preferred before the Persian king's royal banquet, for the one purposed to show his greatness in pomp, and the other his goodness in love. The one dealt exceeding unkindly with his own wife and the other very courteously with them that seemed to him to be mere strangers. They that dress most meat are not always the kindest men, for our Saviour was full of liberality when He gave but barley-bread and fish to His disciples, and Nabal was but a churl, though he killed both sheep and oxen for his sheep-shearers.--_Dod._

The subject of verse 18 has been treated in verse 1. (See Homiletics on page 400, also on chap. xiv. 29, page 386.)

_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._

In the pit, the blasphemy will rise and swell, as it is stirred up one man by his neighbour. _Upbraidings_ are contagious, even in this world. Ordinary quarrels are wonderfully quieted, if a man waits. But _Divine quarrels,_ if we stay to look at God, and observe His reasonings, are wonderfully held back, and by His grace signally prevented.--_Miller._

Observe the principles of _hatred and love,_ contrasted in active exercise. Some persons make it their occupation to sit by the fire, to feed and fan the flame, lest it be extinguished. A useful and friendly employment, were it a fire to warm. But when it is an injurious, consuming, and destructive element, it would seem difficult to discover the motive of these incendiaries, did we not read, that "out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, wickedness, an evil eye, pride, foolishness" (Mark vii. 21, 22).--_Bridges._

Surely it is a _wrathful man_ that is the lawyer's best client. He is altogether for _scire faciam,_ I will make thee to know what thou hast done, what thou has said; which the lawyer does but turn into a _scire facias,_ although at last himself pay dearest for the knowledge which is gotten. But he that is slow to anger, hath a _Quietus est_ for any suit before it is begun. His care is rather to buy his peace with loss, than to sell his rest for gain. He considereth it to be true which St. Ambrose teacheth him, that to be freed from the loss of strife is not a little gain.--_Jermin._

_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 19.

THE WAY OF THE SLOTHFUL AND THE RIGHTEOUS.

+I. The one thing common to these opposite characters--a "way."+ The eagle and the snail both have a way of motion, although the one swiftly cleaves the air, and the other drags itself slowly along the ground. Unlike as they are in form and in habit, they are both impelled to some kind of motion. So with the sluggard and the man who complies willingly with God's ordinance of labour--they are both compelled to some exercise of their bodily and mental organs, but there is a great contrast in the way in which they exercise them as there is between the way of the snail and the eagle.

+II. The contrast between the ways of these opposite characters.+ 1. _That of the sluggard is a way of self-prevention._ He lessens his power by neglecting to use it. The man who has power to pull against a rapid at a certain point of the stream and will not use it, but allows his boat to drift on until he comes into a current against which he can make no headway, has thrown away his power, and is his own destroyer. The effort which he neglected to put forth at a time when it would have been effectual, is of no avail now that the time has passed. Every man in health of body and mind has physical, and mental, and moral powers which at a certain period in his life are equal to the overcoming of all ordinary obstacles to his moral and physical well-being. But if he neglects to use them the tide against him will grow stronger, because his power will decrease, and his neglect and inertness, whether in material or in spiritual things, will raise around him a hedge of thorns, which will require much extraordinary and painful effort to break through. A thorn-hedge in its beginnings may be easily stepped over, or it may be almost as easily uprooted; but if it is allowed to grow and strengthen itself for several years it makes an almost impassable barrier--at least, a barrier which cannot be overcome without a great and painful effort. So with the sluggard, temptations to indolence--to neglect of powers which God has given him to be used--might once have been easily overcome, and have been so completely conquered as to cease to be temptations. But yielded to until they have become habits, they form around him as impassable a barrier, or one which can be broken through only by as great and as painful exertion as a hedge of thorns. Often we hear him complaining of the difficulties in the way, and truly they are there, but they are mainly of his own creation, the hedge is about him, but it is of his own planting--the lion is there (chap. xxvi. 13), but the lion was placed there by the man who is afraid to face him. 2. _The way of righteousness--of him who is willing to strive after his moral and physical well-being--is a way in which it is easier to walk the longer it is pursued._ It is "made plain," or it is a "paved way." _(a) God helps to smooth his way, because it is a Divinely ordained way._ He who rules the world has ordained that many material gifts and all the most precious mental and moral gifts shall be the reward of those only who earnestly strive after them. The way of diligent continuance in well-doing is as old as God Himself, and it is the way in which He requires His creatures to walk. This being so, those who tread it may rely upon His help to exalt the valleys, to level the mountains, and to make the rough places plain which lie in their road. _(b) The way is made plain by the man himself._ The continued repetition of acts makes habit, and he who pushes boldly and fearlessly forward in the way of righteous exertion finds the hard becomes easier and the stony places smoother by the very constitution of his nature. He makes his way plain by his resolution to walk in it, he leaps the hedge while his slothful neighbour is counting the number of feet it is from the ground. It is well to look before we leap, but some look so long that they never take the leap, and the slothful man looks so long at the difficulties in his way that he never finds courage enough to grapple with them. But the very resolve to try brings strength for action, and the power grows by use until what is a hedge of thorns to an indolent man is a level road to his righteous neighbour. The word righteous here being placed in antithesis to slothful shows how great a sin it is to neglect to use the opportunities which God has given for men to ensure their real and highest interests (See also on chap. xiii. 4, page 296.)

_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._

God's Word recognises the universal law of work. By frequent precept and cheering promises, it consecrates our daily labour. Mindful of the old Latin maxim, _"Laborare est orare,"_ "toil is prayer," the Christian learns from the record of God's Will that honest, faithful, diligent, God-fearing, and God-honouring work is itself a worship acceptable to the great All-worker. Toil, hard toil, is duty. Even the heathen world confessed that the gods gave nothing to men without it had been earned by severe exertion. . . . God enjoins diligence upon us by precept and by example. About us, all things perform their allotment of work, and do it promptly and without a thought of delay. The winds sweep over the face of the earth, attent alone on the fulfilment of their appointed mission. Here they come on silent pinions, to bear away the rising exhalation of death from the lowlands or the pest-house; there they carpet the earth with the sere and yellow leaves of autumn, covering the earth with russet and gold. Now their task is the flushing of some sick one's pale cheek, as they rustle through the spring blossoms, laden with sweet health. There they hinder and destroy the else invincible Armada, creeping forth on its purpose of spreading far and wide destruction and death. Thus, too, the never-resting sea. Lashing its worn and rugged shore, the incoming tides bear on their bosom the wealth of trade; or else, lifting the waves in its fury, it engulfs those who go down into the sea to do business in the deep waters. Thus, too, the hidden fires of earth, ever smouldering within, ever restless in their workings--now tossing the foam and spray of the geysers in their play, or now opening in wide fissures of molten death, to scorch the surface of the earth with the poisonous sulphur smoke, or bury for centuries in dust and ashes, and under the lava tide, the homes and haunts of the men of the past. Thus God teaches men by His own ceaseless workings through ten thousand ever busy forces. And revelation utters the same bidding to unremitting toil. . . . Diligent hands are speedily rendered expert. Long use gives practice and perfection, until that which was at first the toilsome labour of home becomes the easily attained result of a few moments' application. And the diligent hand teaches and trains the wary and observant eye.--_Life Lessons from the Book of Proverbs, by Dr. Perry, Bishop of Iowa._

The wise man mentions righteousness in this place rather than diligence, because the latter is included in the former, and is not sufficient without it to make a man's way plain.--_Lawson._

Observe God's estimate of the slothful man. He contrasts with him not the diligent, but the righteous, marking him as a "wicked, because a _slothful,_ servant" (Matt. xxv. 26). The difficulties are far more in the mind than in the path. For while the slothful man sits down by the hedge-side in despair, _the way of the righteous_ (in itself not more easy) _is made plain._ He does not expect God to work for him in an indolent habit. But he finds that God helps those that help themselves. . . . Following His commands, feeding upon His promises, continuing in prayer, in waiting and watching for an answer to prayer, _his way is raised up_ before him. He believes what is written, and acts upon it without delay. As soon as ever the light comes into his mind, at the very first dawn, this determines the direction of his steps, and the order of his proceedings. Thus his stumbling-blocks are removed (Numb. xiii. 30, xiv. 6-9; Isa. lvii. 14).--_Bridges._

Grace has not only a _brighter_ (ver. 15) but an _easier_ time. We see the like in worldly matters. Nothing is more striking than the ease with which a prompt man works. His tackle is all right, so is his ground, it has been made smooth by his last year's toil. His hands are not blistered. His lazy neighbour admires, and longs after his chance. Laziness begets labour. In the round year, the sluggard fevers himself more than the diligent; while, in the spiritual world, the proverb is more signal still. Just where the _upright_ stands there is a smooth path--and let it be observed the upright means the _smooth,_ the _level._ Just where the sinner stands is a _thorn hedge._ He _cannot_ enter into life; so he imagines. And yet he is a _sluggard,_ for he will not do the plainest duties. The proverb is right, therefore, that it is the principle of sluggardism to create "a hedge of thorns;" and that it is far smoother to take hold of the faith by the right handle, and at once, than to be eternally kicking against the pricks of the Gospel.--_Miller._