CRITICAL NOTES.—
Ecclesiastes 12:1. Thy Creator.] The Hebrew word is in the plural form, denoting the fulness and wealth of the Divine nature. While the evil days come not.] The time of joyless old age as contrasted with the glad season of youth.
Ecclesiastes 12:2. While the sun, or the light, or the stars be not darkened.] The separate mention of the sun and light is not to be considered as tautology. Aben Ezra explains that by the light is signified the morning light, which, though identical with that proceeding from the sun, is yet poetically different. The darkening of these natural lights signifies the diminishing of joy and the coming of the season of adversity. (Isaiah 13:10, Amos 8:9, Ezekiel 32:7.) Nor the clouds return after the rain.] A description of what often happens, in those countries, during the rainy season of winter. After a great discharge of rain, the clouds gather again, the signal for another storm. One trouble follows closely upon another.
Ecclesiastes 12:3. The keepers of the house shall tremble.] The human body, being the habitation of the soul, is often compared to a house or tent. (Job 4:19, Wis. 9:15, Isaiah 38:12, 2 Corinthians 5:1, 2 Peter 1:13.) The description given here is that of a rich mansion or castle, not that of an ordinary house. It is a house having the necessary things of war and luxury; soldiers to defend it and keep watch on the turrets; servants for attendance, and to prepare food for a large household. The furniture and surroundings are those of a magnificent and lordly dwelling—the hanging lamps, the golden bowl, the splendid fountain. (Ecclesiastes 12:6.) By “the keepers of the house” are signified the arms, one of whose chief uses is defence. In old age they become weak and tremulous. And the strong men shall bow themselves.] These are the legs which, from failing strength, bend under the weight of years. And the grinders cease because they are few.] The “millers” or “grinders” are the teeth, which in old age become few. They cease, in the sense of failing in ability to perform their proper function. In Hebrew, the form of the word is feminine, in allusion to the custom by which the grinding for the household was performed by female slaves. And those that look out of the windows be darkened.] Not ordinary windows, but some opening in a lofty part, such as a turret. The castle, which would have its “strong men,” would also have its watchers on the heights. These answer to the eyes, which are placed aloft as on a watch-tower. Dimness of sight is the common infirmity of old age.
Ecclesiastes 12:4. And the doors shall be shut in the streets.] Some expositors say that by “the doors” the mouth is intended. But this is scarcely likely, as the mouth had been sufficiently described before. The description answers better to the ears, for a double organ is plainly signified, and one by which we hold intercourse with the outer world. When the sound of the grinding is low.] This refers not to the failure of the powers of mastication, but to the failure of hearing. The old man but feebly hears the most familiar household sounds, such as those of the maids grinding corn. And he shall rise up at the voice of the bird.] In allusion, probably, to the sleeplessness of old men,
Ecclesiastes 12:5. Afraid of that which is high.] Referring to the difficulty which an old man feels in ascending a hill. Fears shall be in the way.] The smallest dangers are magnified by his weakness till they become formidable. The almond tree shall flourish.] The almond tree flourishes in the midst of winter, and bears its blossoms on a leafless stem. These blossoms, notwithstanding their red colour, have, as they fall, the appearance of white snow-flakes. Dry, bleak, barren old age, with its silvery hair, is thus represented. The grasshopper shall be a burden.] Some explain this of their singing and chirping, which may easily annoy the old man. Others—taking the word in the strictly literal sense of locust—say that the reference is to these as an article of food which is too strong for the impaired digestion of the aged. Others, again, say that they represent that which devours, hereby signifying those forces which are hostile to life. Various other interpretations are given, more or less fanciful, but all are foreign to the simplicity of the figure. Here, it will be found that the meaning that would occur to the simplest reader is the best. The old man cannot bear the least weight. Desire shall fail.] Every kind of desire, whether it be the appetite for food, or that of the sensual passions. Because man goeth to his long home.] Lit. “to his eternal house.” This is inserted parenthetically—all these things are signs that life is shortly about to cease. The expression is found in Tob. 3:6, and was familiar to Roman literature. As the word rendered “eternal” also signifies the world, it may be that the idea of time is not prominent here, and that we have but a form of the phrase “the other world.”
Ecclesiastes 12:6. Or ever the silver cord be loosed.] Man’s living organism is here described by a new figure. It is now a golden lamp, hanging by a silver cord. Hereby is signified the thread of life, and that life is a noble and precious thing. Or the golden bowl be broken.] The vessel containing the oil which supports the flame. This answers to the brain, the organ of the noblest functions of man, and also the source of that stimulus by which all the processes of the body are carried on. Or the pitcher be broken at the fountain.] This gives a different idea from the golden bowl, and evidently refers to that organ which draws nourishment from something outside the body. Like the broken pitcher, the lungs are no longer able to draw in the vital air. Or the wheel broken at the cistern.] The same figure as the last, but representing a different part of the arrangement for drawing water—the cistern wheel for raising and lowering the bucket. Life is represented under the image of a wheel in constant motion. This, probably, suggested James 3:6, “The wheel of nature.”
MAIN HOMILETICS OF THE PARAGRAPH.— Ecclesiastes 12:1-7
INCITEMENTS TO EARLY PIETY
The Royal Preacher now leaves speculation, as leading to no substantial result, and turns, with better hopes, to practical matters. He had observed much of this scene of man, and thought deeply upon the mysteries of life and destiny; but he has no brilliant discovery of ultimate wisdom to announce which could settle these questions. He is more inclined to give those few and simple counsels which are far more profitable for himself and for all who hear him. A man always returns gratefully to these when he has grown tired of the conflict of thought and controversy. Thus the Epistles of “Paul the Aged” deal more with the “faithful sayings” than with the deep things of doctrine. Experience teaches a man to rely only upon what is sure. As a master in the school of heavenly wisdom, Solomon calls his young friends around him, exhorting and entreating them to early piety. He lays before them those motives and reasons which commend the fear of God to youth.
I. It is a Rational Duty. (Ecclesiastes 12:1.) The whole of what we understand by piety is made to consist of the remembrance of our Creator. Nor is this too narrow a basis: it really includes all duty. The fact that God is our Creator is the foundation fact upon which lies all what we know and feel, or are capable of. Practically, to recognise our relationship to God herein is the sum of all duty. If God is our Creator, He will make provision for our sustenance, for our preservation, for our spiritual education and improvement. After the reflection, “Thy hands have made me and fashioned me,” how natural is the prayer, “give me understanding that I may learn thy commandments.” (Psalms 119:73.) To remember God is to keep Him always before us, to be mindful of what He is, to obey His will, and to pay Him thanks. It is like the son’s remembrance of his father’s home, bringing back tender associations fresh to his mind, acting as a restraint from evil ways, and strengthening the motives of filial duty. God as our Creator has certain rights which we must acknowledge. The only rational service for man is to do what is right in accordance with the relations in which he is placed. This makes early piety the only consistent and reasonable course. All late coming to the knowledge of a God is a culpable forgetfulness. Though the mercy of God be not hereby overtasked, there is in this tardy recognition of duty something ungracious.
1. God has a right to our entire and life-long service. The obligation to the loving service of our Creator never ceases for a moment, but always remains with us. Why should we either heedlessly thrust that obligation aside, or keep it in abeyance until we are sated with the world’s pleasures, and fondly hope to return to it as a last resource when all else has failed? The service of God should fill the whole area of duty, and the whole course of our time. The true and complete model of the religious life—God’s ideal of humanity—is that which was manifested in Christ, whose whole life was devoted to His “Father’s business.” In that life there were no violent changes, no painful struggles to recover lost ground; but from the earliest dawn of thought and feeling, duty was accepted, and the communication with Heaven kept open. The perfection of this model should not appal us, for it is our duty to make as near an approach to it as possible. “The measure of Christ” is the limit to which we ought to tend, though that limit stretches so far beyond us.
2. God has a right to our constant love and gratitude. His character is such as to demand and win our love. He does not use the instruments of terror to lash us into a tender regard for Himself, but seeks to attract us by His loving kindness. Therefore, our love to Him should be deep, simple, and free, as nature. In O.T. times, the love of such an awful Being would be that of a distant, reverential love, represented by the phrase (which is there the prevailing element) “the fear of God”—that wholesome dread of offending Him. But in the latter revelation, mediation comes to our help; and in Christ, God is brought closer to our human heart and sympathy. We are drawn “with the cords of a man, with the bands of love.” (Hosea 11:4.) Hence our heart is under the stronger obligation to answer back to God. As we were made in His image, we are capable of these high favours and solemn duties. Gratitude is but one of the forms of love. It is love contemplating favours, and grasping the hand that blesses. The energy of the living God still goes forth, working in nature, Providence, and grace. Hence the demand upon our gratitude is constant, and ever will be so while our relations with our Creator last. It is irrational to deprive Him of this service during any part of our lives.
3. God has a right to be glorified in us. “The heavens declare the glory of God,” because they are obliged to obey those eternal conditions which he has laid upon them. They have no power to resist His will, or to conspire against universal order. But man glorifies God, not as conquered by force, but as submissive to His will. Our nature should act as a mirror to the Divine nature, reflecting His truth, His love, His righteousness. When we shine with that heavenly light, thus falling upon our soul, God is glorified. We return, though somewhat dim and impaired, the graces of His image. God has a right to find in every man an answering mind and heart. To refuse the homage of these is to expose ourselves to the penalty of Divine judgments, by which it is likewise possible for God to be glorified in us. Early piety avoids so disastrous a risk.
4. It is not a reasonable thing that we should give the mere dregs of our life to God. It is not grateful conduct towards the Author of our being to drive a close bargain with Him, practically asking the question, How little service can we render consistent with our final safety? This is base ingratitude, sins against every law of love, and lacks that nobility of spirit which is essential to our true dignity. If we put off the service of God till it is late in our day of life, and troubles thicken, and we are cut off from consolations elsewhere, we are but offering to Him a miserable remnant—a wasted heritage—what is blind, halt, and lame. Besides, we cannot be sure that even this shall be possible to us. The most ardent and vigorous youth cannot reckon with certainty upon long life. Hence, if delay shows a will most incorrect to heaven, it is also dangerous. The uncertainty of life, as well as the reason of the thing, preaches early piety.
II. It Assuages the Sorrows of Age. (Ecclesiastes 12:2-6.) In youth, the power to taste pleasure is strong. The more complicated evils of life—sorrowful regrets, the sense of loss and failure, dissatisfaction with the world—as yet lie far in the future. But they will come, those “evil days” that yield no pleasure. The joyous light within will grow dim, darkening and rendering cheerless the world without. The summer of life was not quite free from troubles, but these were slight and passing as a summer shower. The clouds quickly opened again, and there was the “clear shining after rain.” But it is far otherwise in winter. The storm is gloomier and more sweeping now, and the brief pauses of it are but the preparation for a more merciless deluge of rain, for a louder and more melancholy wailing of the winds. In old age, troubles come apace. Even before this time there are evil days and the light begins to fail. (Ecclesiastes 12:1-2.) The description of old age given here is general, being in certain respects true of all, but the picture is too dark and melancholy to represent the old age of the righteous. The character which the writer had in view is evidently that of a man of the world, who had lived for pleasure, who is now no longer able to enjoy, and who has no consolations within to assuage his sorrows. Such, at least, is the original of the picture; yet it may be considered as aptly describing the main features of old age, as they appear to an ordinary spectator. These infirmities and calamities lead to the outer chambers of death, where man awaits his conflict with the last enemy.
1. Death approaches the aged with many terrors. To the young man whose strength is overwhelmed by violence, death is indeed terrible. But to old age, death seems to come with all the refinements of slow torture.
(1.) There is the failure of those powers which carry out the purposes of human activity. The arms, those “keepers of the house,” so valuable for defence, now begin to tremble, and are powerless against the foe. They were once able to shape the stubborn material around to the mind’s purpose and design, but now they have lost their cunning. The legs, which once ministered swiftly to the will, stood firm against assault, imparted the sense of freedom, and gave a man sovereign command over the whole area of his work, now bow themselves for very feebleness.
(2.) The failure of the nobler senses. The eyes—those windows by which the soul looks upon the outer world—are darkened, for the old man brings to them no longer the power of seeing. The ears—one of the entrances for intelligence, and ways of communication with the world outside—are closed, so that they obstruct the paths of sound. The most familiar sounds are scarcely distinguished, the sweet music of speech at length dies away, and the old man becomes completely shut up within himself.
(3.) The failure of the powers of enjoyment. The power to taste all pleasures, coarse or refined, now fails. Savoury meats and luscious entertainments now pall upon the sense. Singing men and singing women cease to charm.
(4.) The increased power of little things to annoy. The grasshopper is now a burden, the slightest obstacle is magnified into an object of dread, and every little hill becomes a mountain of difficulty. Short breath, dim eyes, failing limbs, give man a painful sense that he is vanquished by nature.
2. The event of death to the aged suggests the most melancholy images to the mind. It is the destruction of the palace of the soul, with all its appliances for defence and luxury. It is the breaking of the golden lamp of life. It is the fatal arrest of that revolving wheel by which we draw what is to us the water of life. The permanent cessation of motion in physical nature means death. The exact meaning of this is, that the body as an organism ceases to exist. There are other movements set up, even when the body lies still in death. “The dust returns to the earth as it was.” Of the earthly side of man’s nature, we have here an end. The grave is the goal of all that is mortal. The body goes a progress from dust to dust, from a lowly origin to cold dishonour.
3. Without spiritual consolations the condition of old age is most lamentable. The perpetual joy that reigns in the breast of the godly man can mitigate the sorrows of old age. The worst evils become disarmed when we can afford to set them at naught by the consciousness of strong consolation within. When the eye grows dim, and the ear ceases to be charmed by sweet sounds, celestial light shines inward with richer effulgence, and the soul listens to diviner harmonies. With the spiritual man, the power to enjoy God increases as his human strength decays. Godliness even modifies some of the physical conditions of age by saving a man from the penalties of sensuality and vice. He who has learned to preserve the honour of his body by temperance and sobriety of behaviour, when he comes to grey hairs will not be such a deplorable ruin as the sinner who has grown old in sin. Thus early piety assuages the sorrows of age, and raises a joy within the breast which no calamities can dislodge.
III. It Deprives of Terror the Soul’s Inevitable Appearance before God. (Ecclesiastes 12:7.)
1. To appear before God is the destination of every human soul. The flesh ends in dust. Man sinks down to that from which he arose. But man is made in the image of God, and therefore in the image of His immortality. There is a part of him that can never die. While the flesh goes down to dust, there is another movement of the spirit upward to God. Each human soul must take that solemn journey to God. However much it may dread the meeting, it cannot pass one side of Him, or in any way avoid Him, but must go straight into His presence. In their “long home”—that other house of life—all men, for good or ill, must await God.
2. That appearance must bring the ungodly into conflict with the Divine Judgments. Sin leaves a mark upon the soul that death itself is not able to efface. God “changes man’s countenance and sends him away,” but the spiritual character of the soul cleaves to it still. Man in that other world must for ever live with himself; and what he is, so shall be his condition. None but the pure and holy can remain in God’s sight, and enjoy the comfort of His presence. If a man has not answered the purpose intended by his Creator, he cannot be approved, but must suffer the Divine displeasure.
3. The godly will come to his Creator in peace. To be summoned into the presence of God is sufficiently solemn, even for the purest and holiest of mankind. But such will come, not to an offended, but to a reconciled God. The solemn meeting will be peace, and prosperity, and endless refreshment. In the dread passage out of life into eternity, the good man learns to say, “Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.” And when his spirit takes its everlasting flight unto Him who gave it, he shall find that the light which was sown for him springs up into a harvest of blessedness. He who has remembered his Creator in the days of his youth shall be able, in his time of age and decay, to utter with confidence the prayer, “Lord, remember me.” Early piety is the only perfectly graceful conduct towards the Author of our being, the most acceptable sacrifice, the best provision against the sorrows of life, and the terrors of the last trial. The soul needs the strongest ground for courage and hope when this present world vanishes, and there is nothing to intercept its vision of the throne of God.
SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS ON THE VERSES
Ecclesiastes 12:1. Practically considered, the root of all moral evil is forgetfulness of God.
Remembrance imparts to great facts and impressions the beauty and influence of presence. Thus the truth of God’s nature and our duty comes upon us with fresh power.
The mention of the Creator, here, shows the right which He has in us, and our obligation.
Your own happiness is concerned in your compliance with this counsel. That happiness is unworthy of the name which is disturbed by the remembrance of God. The contemplation, and enjoyment, and service of the Divine Being, must be the honour and the blessedness of every rational nature. There is a propriety, a beauty, and a glory in early piety [Wardlaw].
Of his last years this old man says, “I have no pleasure in them.” Once on a time existence was a gladness, and the exuberant spirits overflowed in shouts and songs of hilarious ditties. So abundant was the joy of life, that, like the sunbeams in a tropic clime, it was needful to shade it, and with a Venetian lattice of imagined sorrows and tragic tales, the young man assuaged the over-fervid beams of his own felicity. Now there is no need of such artificial abatements. It is not easy for the old man to get a nook so warm that it will thaw the winter of his veins. To say nothing of a song, it is not easy for him to muster up a smile; and as he listens with languid interest to the news of the day, and, in subtile sympathy with his own failing faculties, as he disparages this modern time and its dwindled men, it is plain that, as for the world, its avocations and amusements, its interests and its inhabitants, he has little pleasure in them [Dr. J. Hamilton].
Ecclesiastes 12:2. The conditions of external nature, in their aspect towards ourselves, are determined by our own state. Nature is gay, or sad, or languishing, according to the several moods of our soul. When we lose the power of enjoying it, the world itself may be said to pass away.
As the light declines, the gayest colours of life fade, and, at length, all is reduced to a dreary blank. So it shall be with the youth who vainly depends upon the continuance of the world’s happiness.
He only is preserved from bitter disappointments and long regrets, who seeks that light of heavenly joy which increases while all other lights grow dim.
We should use our mercies and privileges which are common to us with other men, to wit, our bodily sight, our reason, and all other comforts, which may be signified by the lights here mentioned, so as we may be still mindful of the decay and failing of them at death; and often think with ourselves what a comfort it will be to see by faith Him that is invisible favourable to us, to behold Christ the Sun of Righteousness shining in mercy upon us, and to have the Day-Star, His Spirit, arising in our hearts never to set again, even when all other lights and outward comforts will be darkened [Nisbet].
In youth, troubles come like rain, which, though inconvenient while it lasts, leaves no devastation behind. But in age, troubles are like rain falling upon a flood already threatening and which, at length, carries away man’ into eternity (Psalms 90:5).
Old age is a Tierra del Fuego—a region where the weather never clears. Once, when a trivial ailment came, the hardy youth could outbrave it, and still go on with his daily duties. But now, every ailment is important, and they are never like to end. The cough is cured only to be succeeded by an asthma, and when the tender eyes have ceased to trickle, the ears begin to tingle. Once upon a time a few drops might fall into the brightest day, like a settling shower in June; and there were apt to be hurricanes, equinoctial gales, great calamities, drenching and devastating sorrows. But now, the day is all one drizzle, and life itself the chief calamity, and there is little space for hope where the weather is all either clouds or rain [Dr. J. Hamilton].
Ecclesiastes 12:3. As each power and sense fails, man descends by so many steps into the grave.
By the failure of sight—the noblest of the senses—a man has already entered “the valley of the shadow of death.”
In old age, a man is compelled, in a terribly real sense, to retire from the world. Shut in from outward joys, he must live with himself. How cheerless if he has no Divine Comforter!
When old age, with its ever-increasing feebleness, draws on, “the keepers of the house”—the once-powerful arms that shielded the body from every hostile assault, that triumphantly defended it even in the shock of battle—“shall tremble.” Their force is gone; they can no longer grasp a weapon, or strike a blow. The “strong men” too, that were like the pillars of the building—the firm and well-jointed limbs that bore the body up, unconscious of its weight—“shall bow themselves,” and sink down helpless beneath the load. “And the grinders shall cease because they are few”—the toothless jaws shall at length refuse their office—the very mechanism by which the waste of nature’s energies was wont to be repaired, losing its power to act, and thereby accelerating the progress of decay. “And those that look out of the windows”—the sentinels that kept watch in the lofty towers, and whose function it was to descry and announce the approach of danger—those bright and beaming eyes that, erewhile, looked forth far and wide on surrounding things, shall “be darkened”; their range of vision will become contracted, and blind Isaac shall not know his younger from his elder son [Buchanan].
In the consciousness of failing strength, the good man feels that he belongs the more to God.
Ecclesiastes 12:4. When hearing fails, a man is shut in from more than half the world. Even affection and love can only minister to such by some other and more difficult entrance.
But not only is the door of audience closed, the door of utterance is also shut. “The grinders have ceased,” and with lips collapsed and organs all impaired, it is an effort to talk; and bending silently in on his own solitude, the veteran dozes in his elbow-chair the long summer hours when younger folks are busy. But, if he dozes in the day, he does not sleep at night. At the voice of the bird, at the crowing of the cock, although he does not hear it, he can keep his couch no longer. He rises, but not because he has any work to do, or any pleasure to enjoy [Dr. J. Hamilton].
Aristotle hath observed it well, that by hearing, the things of others are made known to ourselves, as by our voice and tongue we are able to make known our own things to another. But when old age cometh, the glory of this most excellent work is humbled and “brought low,” the anvil is worn, the hammer is weak, the drum is unbraced, the pure air is grown thick, the music is marred, the doleful toll of the passing bell being ready to sound, and to ring out [Jermin].
He can afford to part with the delights of music who has learned to make melody in his heart.
Ecclesiastes 12:5. He has neither enterprise nor courage. Once it was a treat to press up the mountain side and enjoy the majestic prospect. Now there is no high place which is not formidable; and even to the temple, it is a sad drawback that it stands on Zion, and that it is needful to “go up.” “The almond tree flourishes, and the grasshopper is burdensome.” Teaze him not with your idle affairs. In that load of infirmities he has enough to carry, and though it be not the weight of a feather, do not augment his burden who totters under the load of many years. For “desire has failed.” You can grapple with heavy tasks; you can submit to severe toil and protracted self-denial, for you have a purpose to serve—you have an end in view. But with him there is no inducement, for there is no ulterior [Dr. J. Hamilton].
The hoary head of old age—the flourishing of the almond tree—forebodes the dreary winter that shuts the scene of mortal life.
In this present state—this earthly house—man is but as a guest that tarrieth for a night; but in that “house of eternity”—that other world—to which he is hastening, man has his final and permanent habitation.
It should be our aim to make preparation for our comfort, peace, and joy, in that world where we shall dwell the longest.
Ecclesiastes 12:6. Though death involves the destruction of the entire mortal frame, yet it may begin in any one of the great centres of life—the brain, the heart, or the lungs. The “silver cord” of nervous matter may be “loosed,” and the delicate mechanism by which the body is supplied with blood and air may be rendered useless.
Science has thrown much light upon those wonderful processes by which physical life is maintained. But its greatest discoveries are chiefly the clearing, and settling into more definite form, of that knowledge which was held in solution by mankind for ages. Poetry has often anticipated science, and the prophet comes before the investigator.
The fountain of natural life remains for the race, but the individual is only permitted to draw from it for a short time.
The bucket and the wheel are broken; the water can no longer be drawn; and instead of the busy and lively scene that was wont to surround the well’s mouth, all is solitude and silence, the ground untrodden, the water stagnant [Wardlaw].
Ecclesiastes 12:7. However fairly it may be garnished, man lives but in a house of clay whose end is dust.
The humble destination of the mortal part of us should be a rebuke to pride.
Some rationalistic expositors maintain that these words teach that the soul loses its individuality, and is absorbed into God. But we are plainly taught that man, as a spirit, returns to God, not to perish by dispersion in His infinity, but to be judged. (Ecclesiastes 12:14.) Hence moral responsibility will remain, and this is not possible unless the conscious selfhood in each man remains.
Natural likeness to God—for we are spirit as well as flesh—makes us capable of appearing before Him in a spiritual world. But moral likeness to Him can alone turn that solemn necessity into blessedness.
We know not what mysterious things await the spirit when it returns to God; but we know that the law of love holds good, as the condition of happiness, in all worlds.
Our spirits are God’s free gift, and therefore all the powers and faculties thereof ought to be employed to the honour of the Giver. (Romans 11:36.) He is to be depended on, and acknowledged for the preservation of them (Job 10:12); and all crosses upon body and spirit to be submitted unto. (Hebrews 12:9.) [Nisbet.]