PERSIAN SPLENDOUR
CRITICAL NOTES.]
Esther 1:1. Ahasuerus] Heb. Ahashverosh. Prince, chief. A name given in Scripture to Cambyses, the son of Cyrus, and to Astyages, king of the Medes (Ezra 4:6; Daniel 9:1). India to Ethiopia] describes the king’s dominion, but does not definitely fix the date of his reign. The hundred and twenty-seven provinces indicate the σατραπηιαι.
Esther 1:2. Shushan the palace] The king’s favourite winter residence. Shushan the lily, the rose, the joy.
MAIN HOMILETICS OF THE PARAGRAPH. Esther 1:1-2
TIME’S DOINGS WITH HUMAN GREATNESS
Ahasuerus is gone, his royal city has perished, and even his stately palace has left behind only a few insignificant traces. But the simple story of Esther survives. Palaces of marble, as well as mansions made of the less enduring brick, strangely vanish. Strong fortifications disappear. Wonderful it is that material structures seem less enduring than insubstantial thought structures. Suggestive it is that the man Ahasuerus moves a formless shadow across the stage, while his doings and external greatness are vividly represented.
I. This monarch’s unknown individuality. The proceedings of Ahasuerus are only such as might be expected from any Persian monarch of that period, possessing irresponsible power, invested with all the signs of extended dominion, surrounded by courtiers who rendered indiscriminate flattery, steeped in luxury and in frivolity, and like one of the governors in India, who told the native princes that they were but dust beneath his feet. The record of the doings of Ahasuerus, therefore, cannot give positive information as to his personality. His position in the Persian dynasty cannot be undoubtedly ascertained; but his place in the Divine economy is certain. The very weakness of his character was a buttress for the Jewish nation. His love of luxury turned out to the “enlargement” of the Jewish people. His immortality is that of those who are saved from oblivion by the greatness of others. Time sooner or later obscures the epitaph. The name written may be Ahasuerus, and future generations will fail to discover the person indicated. The advancing time will weave its mists about the name, and the individual will be lost in darkness. But a Divine book of remembrance is kept, and there the names of the righteous are written in characters of ever-enduring light. Their names shall shine in the all-revealing splendours. Let men strive to work in harmony with, and in furtherance of, all Divine purposes.
II. This monarch’s individuality is only declared by the extent of his material kingdom. “This is Ahasuerus which reigned,” &c. His kingdom may be measured by the land surveyor and described by the historian. It extended from India to Ethiopia. He embraced in his rule the borders of India on the one side, and Egypt on the other—an extent of country about two thousand five hundred miles in length. He possessed some of earth’s loveliest lands. The fertilizing waters of the Nile left rich deposits on one portion of his territory, and another almost reached the sources of the sacred Ganges, while the Euphrates washed the walls of Babylon, and was fed by streams that flowed near the royal city of Susa. The Black Sea, famous in the history of modern conflicts, and the Caspian, were partly included in the territories over which he reigned. Lands and cities of historic fame were compelled to pay him tribute, and some of the noblest races on earth obeyed his commands. But the moral king is nobler, and has a more extensive and a more permanent kingdom. Even the material universe is the believer’s possession, intended for his spiritual development. Death strips the earthly king of his royal robes, and leaves him unthroned; but death lets the moral king into a larger sphere, and the results of his earthly conquests he will enjoy in heaven. The kingliest men have owned only a few feet of land, and sometimes not enough land for a tomb, according to short-sighted views of ownership.
III. This monarch’s greatness consisted in external display. The throne on which the king sat was a chair made of gold, adorned with a costly carpet, upon which none might sit, on pain of death. There was also a footstool of gold. The king held a golden sceptre in his right hand. Close behind stood an eunuch bearing a fan, and with his mouth covered, for fear his breath should be offensive to the mighty monarch. Such are the pomp and circumstance with which Oriental monarchs endeavoured to separate themselves from, and raise themselves above, their fellow-creatures. This is greatness in the estimation of the children of this world. But true greatness is superior to mere gorgeous externals. The one disappears when the showy livery is removed, but the other abides through all changes. Lazarus was great in his rags; Dives was mean in his purple and fine linen. A great soul ennobles the meanest surroundings.
IV. This monarch’s proud position is not to be envied. There are many who would regard Ahasuerus with envy, as, amid a group of attendants, he paced those terraced heights on which the palace of Shushan was erected, as he watched the gentle gliding of the sweet waters of the Eulœus, as he listened to the music of pipers and harpists, as he pleased himself with the natural and artistic beauties of the scene, and as he gazed upon the flat and fertile plains that stretched at the base of the royal palace. The riches both of art and of nature seemed to combine in order to make existence pleasant. But no human lot is without its admixture of pain. From the high places of the earth we catch the echo of those wailing cries that mingle with the mocking sounds of revelry. Kings are but men, and their hearts too are touched by the painful hand of sorrow. The inscription over an imaginative palace is, “Here is the abode of everlasting pleasures and content.” But no such inscription can be truthfully placed over the gates of any earthly palace, and certainly it will not describe Shushan the palace. Happy he who wisely keeps the palace of his soul, and finds there the elements of true gladness.
SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS ON Esther 1:1-2
Esther 1:1. Ahasuerus. The difficulty of stating positively who was the Ahasuerus spoken of in this passage is almost insuperable. The nearest approach to a settlement of the question is the statement that Ahasuerus was one of the Persian monarchs who lived about the time of Darius, Xerxes, and Artaxerxes, and must have been one of those monarchs; for only those three are described by Herodotus as possessing the extent of territory attributed to them in the Book of Esther. Most of our modern critics decide that Ahasuerus is Xerxes, and this conclusion is said to be fortified by a resemblance of character. As Xerxes scourged the sea, and put to death the engineers of his bridge because their work was injured by a storm, so Ahasuerus repudiated his queen Vashti because she would not violate the decorum of her sex, and ordered the massacre of the whole Jewish people to gratify the malice of Haman. Now Herodotus is evidently the father of fables as well as the father of history. In the book Polyhymnia, from which the above instance of foolish conduct is quoted, Herodotus tells us of some prodigies which fairly lead us to doubt his trustworthiness. And we may well agree with Mitford when he affirms that some of the anecdotes related by Herodotus “are utterly inconsistent with the characters to whom they refer. Among the latter I should reckon the ridiculous punishment of the Hellespont by stripes and chains, together with executions equally impolitic as inhuman, and repugnant to what we learn on best authority of the manners of the Persians.” The assembly spoken of by Herodotus as called by Xerxes in order to deliberate concerning the Grecian war does not resemble that great feast and assembly which was held by Ahasuerus in Shushan the palace, and which lasted an hundred and fourscore days. Those frightful dreams which Xerxes is said to have had at this period do not speak to us at least of the merriment of Ahasuerus in Shushan. This luxury and splendour only seem to point to the Persian greatness which culminated about this period. The two narrations—the one given by Herodotus as to Xerxes, and the other in the Book of Esther as to Ahasuerus—may appear to agree in point of time, but do not necessarily as to the nature of the events recorded. There is surely an a priori argument in favour of those historians who lived near the time when the events took place which they record, and who had better means of knowing the characters and events whom and which they describe than later authors. It is a fact to be considered that throughout the Book of Esther in the LXX. Artaxerxes is written for Ahasuerus, and that the apocryphal additions of the Book of Esther give this name. Josephus, also, being such a painstaking historian, did not write Artaxerxes for Ahasuerus without good reason. The name Ahasuerus sets forth the dignity of the man rather than distinguishes him from others. It is a general title of the Persian kings, as Pharaoh, Ptolemy, and Cæsar were general names for rulers of other countries. Why should we institute a painful comparison between the believer who is said not to own a foot of land, and the licentious monarch who reigns over one hundred and seven and twenty provinces? For, it is truly observed, some of the vilest men possessed all the great and large dominions of the Persian empire. But if God has bestowed true faith, unfeigned love, and unaffected humility, he has bestowed treasures of inestimably greater value than-all the possessions of Xerxes or of Nero. A man may rule over an extensive kingdom, and yet be a slave; for lusts are tyrannical masters. A man may be a slave in outward condition, and yet be the noblest freeman, the grandest king of all. He is royal who is a member of that kingdom which is to extend from sea to sea, and from the river to the ends of the earth, which in fact is to include all nations. Other kingdoms shall fail, but Christ’s kingdom of love shall ever endure.
Monarchs will be still adding, and although a man were monarch of the whole world, yea, and had command of the moon and the stars, yet would he still be peeping beyond them for more, more.—Trapp.
An overgrown kingdom which in time would sink with its own weight, and, as usual, would lose its provinces as fast as it gained them. If such a vast power be put into bad hands it is able to do so much the more mischief.—M. Henry.
Esther 1:2. Sitting is a posture common to judges and kings, but more particularly characteristic of the kings of Persia. The Persian kings are always painted as sitting on a throne under a lofty canopy. This is true of them even in the time of war, and in their journeys. Xerxes, indeed, was present in the battles sitting; thus it was at Thermopylæ, according to Herodotus, and at Salamis, according to Plutarch.—Lange.
This monarch’s palatial residence. Shushan is mentioned in three of the sacred books—Nehemiah, Esther, and Daniel—as well as by profane writers. Originally it was the capital of the province called in Scripture Elam, and by the classical writers sometimes Cissian, and sometimes Susis, or Susiana; and was situated on the banks of the river Eulai, or Eulœus. Daniel refers to it in the account of his vision as forming part of the Babylonish empire. Its foundations are said to have been laid even before the time of Chedorlaomer. The remains found on the supposed site point to a very remote past. It was comprehended in the Persian empire in the time of Cyrus or Darius, and to the latter is generally given the credit of being the founder or builder of the great palace described in the Book of Esther. It was chosen by the Persian monarch as the capital of his empire on account of its vicinity to Persia, its climatic advantages, and the great excellence of its water. The circumference of Shushan, exclusive of some outlying mounds, was about three miles; but little more than the name of the city remains. The bases of a few columns, having upon them inscriptions which are deciphered with difficulty, are all that is now left of this proud city. Shushan means the lily, the rose, the joy—a name given on account of the fertility of the country, and the abundance of lilies that flourished in the district. This lily no longer flourishes, this Narcissus no more emits its fragrance; the joy and pride of the nations has fallen from its eminence. Thus the flowers of earth perish, but the celestial flowers bloom for evermore. Our Beloved is as the lily of the valley and the rose of Sharon, and he shall evermore unfold his loveliness and emit his Divine fragrance.
The palace of Shushan was one of the architectural wonders of its day, and its size and its magnificence would have attracted considerable attention in modern times. In visiting the ruins of our ancient abbeys we are astonished at the evidences of minuteness and of massiveness which still survive in those gigantic and yet graceful structures. But more profound emotions of sublimity are produced by visiting the ruins of Persepolis, which corresponded to the palace of Shushan in great measure, and from which at least we must gather our conception of what the Shushan palace was like, for nearly all the ruins of the latter have disappeared. In speaking of Persepolis, Porter observes, “Nothing can be more striking than the view of its ruins; so vast and so magnificent, so fallen, mutilated, and silent; the court of Cyrus, and the scene of his bounties; the pavilion of Alexander’s triumph, and the awful memorial of the witness of his power.” The first object which presented itself was a columned hall of the largest size, which has not been rivalled in space or in beauty by any building either ancient or modern, not even by Egyptian Carnac or Cologne Cathedral. On three sides of the hall were vast porches, supported by twelve columns, while the great central hall had thirty-six, which were a little over sixty feet high. These columns were all fluted, and surmounted by capitals formed into the shape of the heads of bulls, or horses, or wild asses. Heeren supposes these pillars to have supported a roof of cedar, but some authorities doubt whether this large hall could have had a roof. In the grounds we see on one side what is called the queen’s house, and on the other the king’s house. In looking at the whole group we may see terrace rising above terrace, and building above building, to the height of two hundred feet above the level of the plain. Fabulous creatures in stone frowning like mighty sentinels; the terraces graced with trees, shrubs, and flowers of rich luxuriance, indicating the fertility of the country as well as the skill of the cultivators. Evidences there were on all sides that the wealth, genius, and productive power of that vast empire had been collected and concentrated to the erection and adornment of the stately pile of buildings.
Shushan the palace. The king had a royal establishment in several cities, but at the time here referred to it was in Shushan, which was a favourite spring residence.—Lange.
In this city was the famous palace of Cyrus, which was adorned with marble walls, golden pillars, and great store of precious stones, shining as so many stars from the roof and sides of it, to the dazzling of the eyes of the beholders.—Trapp.
Time sadly overcometh all things, and is now dominant, and sitteth upon a sphinx, and looketh unto Memphis and old Thebes; while his sister Oblivion reclineth semi-somnous on a pyramid, gloriously triumphing, making puzzles of Titanian inscriptions, and turning old glories into dreams. History sinketh beneath her cloud. The traveller, as he paceth amazedly through those deserts, asketh of her who builded them, and she mumbleth something, but what it is he heareth not.—Anonymous.
MAIN HOMILETICS OF THE WHOLE CHAPTER
This book presents us with impressive views of man with and without grace; of the great instability of human affairs; of the sovereign power, justice, and faithfulness of the Supreme Being. We now call your attention to the first chapter.
I. The king of Persia at this time was Ahasuerus. Commentators differ about him. He was a heathen—a stranger to God—possessing extensive dominions. His was the second of the four great empires. These empires have come to nought; but, brethren, there is a kingdom which passeth not away. Its King will remain in heaven for ever. Let us be numbered among its subjects.
II. This mighty potentate, Ahasuerus, wished to make a display of his greatness: made a feast—the power of Media and Persia present—he exhibited his riches, and honour, and glory. Notice his pride. Beware of pride. Pray that you may habitually remember what you are—poor, fallen sinners.
III. At this feast, though a heathen one, moderation was observed. “And the drinking was according to law: none did compel.” Intemperance is an abomination and a degradation; hence we should flee from it.
IV. But though the feast of Ahasuerus was free from the disgrace of compelling the guests to proceed to drunkenness, yet did very evil consequences result from it. It is but seldom that such meetings are free from such consequences. We read of Belshazzar’s feast; we read of Herod’s feast. In such entertainments God is liable to be forgotten. Solomon, who with extraordinary diligence, and unparalleled success, had examined and tried the sources of all earthly gratification, tells us, in language which ought never to be out of remembrance, that “it is better to go to the house of mourning than the house of feasting.”
V. Let us consider the evil which was occasioned by the feast.—The king ordered the queen to be brought. She refused to come. The wrath of the king was kindled. The result was a council, then the divorcement of the queen. Quarrels, animosities, and heart-burnings are so contrary to that religion of love which a received gospel generates, that we ought to strive to the utmost for the preservation of the opposite virtues. Christ is the Prince of Peace; let us not only trust in his death for salvation, but imitate his meekness and lowliness of heart.
Two short remarks shall close this discourse:—
1. It behoveth us to lead excellent lives, and the higher we are placed in the community the more ought this to be the object of our ambition. Let our lives be continual sermons to those among whom we live.
2. It behoveth us to regard the duties which appertain to the relations of life in which we are placed. “Brethren, let every man wherein he is called, therein abide with God.”—Hughes.
I. The vast extent of the Persian empire. It comprehended all the countries from the river Indus on the east to the Mediterranean on the west; and from the Black Sea and Caspian in the north to the extreme south of Arabia, then called Ethiopia. This gigantic dominion was divided into 127 provinces or governments, each of which was placed under a satrap, or, in modern language, a pasha, who managed its affairs, and annually transmitted a certain sum as revenue to the king. The seat of government was variable, according to the season of the year, the summer months being spent by the court at Ecbatana, and the winter months at Susa, or, as it is called in this chapter, Shushan, the palace. The form of government in the East has from the earliest times been despotic, one man swaying the destinies of millions, and having under him a crowd of smaller despots, each in his more limited sphere oppressing the people subjected to his rule.
1. Despotism has its occasional fits of generosity and kindness. It is as kind-hearted that Ahasuerus is brought before you in the early part of this chapter. He was spending the winter months at Susa. The retinue of the monarch was vast, and the fountains and gardens were on a scale of grandeur which we cannot well conceive. There, then, the king, but little concerned about the welfare of his subjects, was spending his time, chiefly in selfish ease and unbounded revelry. To him it was of no moment how his people were oppressed by those whom he set over them; his sole concern was to enjoy his pleasures.
2. With all the luxury and temptation to self-indulgence, there was no compulsion employed to draw any one beyond the bounds of temperance. The law was good, but the king himself had too largely used the liberty, and hence his loss of self-control and all sense of propriety. When heated with wine he sent for Vashti, &c. Lessons suggested are—
(1) Extravagancies and follies into which men are betrayed by intemperance.
(2) That which dethrones reason and destroys intellect should surely be avoided.
(3) All the consequences which affect the man individually, and others also, rest upon the head of the transgressor.
(4) Intemperance (a) blots out distinction between right and wrong; (b) foments all the evil passions of the natural heart; (c) destroys the proper exercise of the power of the will; (d) and often inflicts grievous wounds upon the innocent, as the case of Vashti here already demonstrates.
(5) The necessity of guarding against these evils.
II. The evils which arose from the peculiar family arrangements of those countries. We take occasion here to observe two great evils:—
1. The condition of the female sex was that of degradation. The married woman was not really what the Divine institution intended her to be, the true companion and friend of her husband. She was kept in a state of seclusion, real freedom she knew not; she was, in truth, only a slave, having power to command some other slaves. She was without education, and generally unintelligent, frivolous, and heartless. She was guarded with zealous care, as if she had been very precious, but at the same time she was wholly dependent upon the caprices of her lord.
2. Yet, strangely enough, in the second place, it is to be noticed that, as if to afford evidence that the law of nature cannot be trampled upon with impunity, it very frequently happened that the female influence was felt by the despotic husband, so as to make him in reality the slave. Not conscious of it, but imagining that he held the place of absolute authority, he was himself governed; yet not through the power of real affection, but through the imbecile doting which constituted all that he knew of real affection. Common history abounds with illustrations of this fact, and in the sacred history we have examples of the same kind; David, Solomon, and Ahab are instances. There is never a violation of God’s righteous appointments, but it is followed by some penalty. From this Book of Esther, it appears very obviously that Ahasuerus, with all his caprices and his stern, imperious self-will, was at first completely under the influence of Vashti, as he afterwards came to be under that of Esther. The whole domestic system being unnaturally constructed, there was, of necessity, derangements in the conducting of it. The despot might be one day all tenderness and submission, and the next day he might, to gratify his humour, exact from his slaves what, a short time afterwards, he would have counted it absolutely wrong in himself to command, and punishable in them to do.
III. The degradation of Vashti. We have to look at the circumstances which are brought before us in the narrative. At a season when sound counsel could scarcely have been expected, and when he who sought it was not in a fit condition to profit by it, the serious question was proposed by the king, “What shall be done to Vashti?” &c. To defer the consideration of so grave a subject to a more fitting season would have been so clearly the path which a wise counsellor would have recommended, that we feel astonished that it was not at once suggested. But the wrath of the king was so strongly exhibited that his compliant advisers did not venture to contradict him. “Memucan answered,” &c. Now, with respect to this opinion of the chief counsellor, it may be observed that it was based upon a principle which in itself is unquestionably right, although there was a wrong application made of it. Rank and station, while they command a certain measure of respect, involve very deep responsibility. Fashions and maxims usually go downward from one class of society to another. Customs, adopted by the higher orders as their rule, gradually make their way until at length they pervade all ranks. Thus far Memucan spoke wisely, when he pointed to the example of the queen as that which would certainly have an influence, wherever it came to be known, throughout the empire. But the principle, in the present instance, was wrongly applied when it was made the ground of condemning the conduct of Vashti. The design was to make her appear guilty of an act of insubordination, which it was necessary for the king to punish, if he would promote the good of his subjects, whereas, in reality, she had upon her side all the authority of law and custom, and was to be made the victim both of the ungovernable wrath of the king, who was beside himself with wine, and also of flatterers who, to gratify him, would do wrong to the innocent. See here the danger of flattery.
Let us extract some practical lessons from our subject.
1. The inadequacy of all earthly good to make man truly happy. Surveying the whole scene portrayed in the early verses of this chapter, we might imagine that the sovereign who ruled over this empire, upon whose nod the interests of so many millions depended, and for whose pleasure the product of so many various climes could be gathered together, had surely all the elements of enjoyment at his command.… And yet we must say that the mightiest sovereign of his time, with 127 provinces subject to him, with princes serving him, and slaves kissing the dust at his feet, was not half so happy as the humblest individual here, who knows what is meant by the comforts of home, where he is in the midst of those who love him.
2. A few remarks may be offered upon the domestic question here settled by the king and his counsellors, as to the supremacy of man in his own house. How could they pronounce a sound judgment upon a question which their customs prevented them from rightly knowing?
3. We have in the text a law spoken of which changeth not. And, my friends, there is such a law, but it is not the law of the Medes and Persians, it is the law of the Eternal. Jehovah’s law changeth not. And what does it say? “This do and live.” “Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things written in the book of the law to do them.” That seals us all up under wrath. But we turn the page, and we read and see that “Christ is the end of the law for righteousness.” And is not this our conclusion, then—“I will flee from the curse of the immutable law, and shelter myself under the righteousness of Christ, which is also perfect and immutable, that through him and from him I may have mercy and eternal life”?—Dr. Davidson.
ILLUSTRATIONS TO CHAPTER 1
Power. Pompey boasted, that, with one stamp of his foot, he could rouse all Italy to arms; with one scratch of his pen, Ahasuerus could call to his assistance the forces of 127 provinces; but God, by one word of his mouth, one movement of his will, can summon the inhabitants of heaven, earth, and the undiscovered worlds to his aid, or bring new creatures into being to do his will.
Dignity. A French doctor once taunted Flechier, Bishop of Nismes, who had been a tallow-chandler in his youth, with the meanness of his origin; to which he replied, “If you had been born in the same condition that I was, you would still have been but a maker of candles.”
Great men. Columbus was the son of a weaver, and a weaver himself. Cervantes was a common soldier. Homer was the son of a small farmer. Demosthenes was the son of a cutler. Terence was a slave. Oliver Cromwell was the son of a London brewer. Howard was an apprentice to a grocer. Franklin was a journeyman printer, and son of a tallow-chandler and soap-boiler. Dr. Thomas, Bishop of Worcester, was the son of a linen-draper. Daniel Defoe was a hostler, and son of a butcher. Whitfield was the son of an innkeeper at Gloucester. Virgil was the son of a porter. Horace was the son of a shopkeeper. Shakespeare was the son of a woolstapler. Milton was the son of a money scrivener. Robert Burns was a ploughman in Ayrshire. Yet all these rose to eminence.
How to make a feast. “Lord Chief Justice Hall frequently invited his poor neighbours to dinner, and made them sit at table with himself. If any of them were sick, so that they could not come, he would send provisions to them warm from his table.”
Favour of God. It was the saying of a wise Roman, “I had rather have the esteem of the Emperor Augustus than his gifts;” for he was an honourable, understanding prince, and his favour very honourable. When Cyrus gave one of his friends a kiss, and another a wedge of gold, he that had the gold envied him that had the kiss as a greater expression of his favour. So the true Christian prefers the privilege of acceptance with God to the possession of any earthly comfort, for in the light of his countenance is life, and his favour is as the cloud of the latter rain.—Butler.
Pride of wealth. Alcibiades was one day boasting of his wealth and great estate, when Socrates placed a map before him, and asked him to find Attica. It was insignificant on the map; but he found it. “Now,” said the philosopher, “point out your own estate.” “It is too small to be distinguished in so little a space,” was the answer. “See, then!” said Socrates, “how much you are affected about an imperceptible point of land.”
Your bags of gold should be ballast in your vessel to keep her always steady, instead of being topsails to your masts to make your vessel giddy. Give me that distinguished person, who is rather pressed down under the weight of all his honours, than puffed up with the blast thereof. It has been observed by those who are experienced in the sport of angling, that the smallest fishes bite the fastest. Oh, how few great men do we find so much as nibbling at the gospel book.—Seeker.
Abuse of wealth. I am no advocate for meanness of private habitation. I would fain introduce into it all magnificence, care, and beauty, when they are possible; but I would not have that useless expense in unnoticed fineries or formalities—cornicing of ceilings, and graining of doors, and fringing of curtains, and thousands of such things—which have become foolishly and apathetically habitual.… I speak from experience: I know what it is to live in a cottage with a deal floor and roof, and a hearth of mica slate; I know it to be in many respects healthier and happier than living between a Turkey carpet and a gilded ceiling, beside a steel grate and polished fender. I do not say that such things have not their place and propriety; but I say this emphatically, that a tenth part of the expense which is sacrificed in domestic vanities, if not absolutely and meaninglessly lost in domestic comforts and encumbrances, would, if collectively afforded and wisely employed, build a marble church for every town in England.—Ruskin.
Danger. “A boy climbing among the Alps saw some flowers on the verge of a precipice, and sprang forward to get them. The guide shouted his warnings; but the heedless boy grasped the flowers, and fell a thousand feet upon the rocks below with them in his hand. It was a dear price for such frail things, but he is not the only victim of such folly.”
Danger of prosperity. When Crates threw his gold into the sea, he cried out, Ego perdam te, ne tu perdas me, that is, “I will destroy you, lest you should destroy me.” Thus, if the world be not put to death here, it will put us to death hereafter. Then we shall say, as Cardinal Wolsey, when discarded by his prince and abandoned to the fury of his enemies: “If I had served my God as faithfully as my king, he would not have thus forsaken me.” Poor man! all the perfumes on earth are unable to prevail over the stench of hell.—Secker.
In a long sunshine of outward prosperity, the dust of our inward corruptions is apt to fly about and lift itself up. Sanctified affliction, like seasonable rain, lays the dust, and softens the soul.—Salter.
When fire is put to green wood there comes out abundance of watery stuff that before appeared not; when the pond is empty, the mud, the filth, and toads come to light. The snow covers many a dunghill, so doth prosperity many a rotten heart. It is easy to wade in a warm bath, and every bird can sing in a sunshiny day. Hard weather tries what health we have; afflictions try what sap we have, what grace we have. Withered leaves soon fall off in windy weather, rotten boughs quickly break with heavy weights, &c.—Brooks.
Some of you glory in your shame, that you have drunk down your companions, and carried it away—the honour of a sponge or a tub, which can drink up or hold liquor as well as you.—Baxter.
We commend wine for the excellency of it; but if it could speak, as it can take away speech, it would complain that, by our abuse, both the excellencies are lost; for the excellent man doth so spoil the excellent wine, until the excellent wine hath spoiled the excellent man. Oh, that a man should take pleasure in that which makes him no man; that he should let a thief in at his mouth to steal away his wit; that for a little throat indulgence he should kill in himself both the first Adam—his reason, and even the second Adam—his regeneration, and so commit two murders at once.—Adams.
An earnest young minister was in the house of a rich friend. He was pressed to take wine, but refused. It was again pressed upon him. At length he yielded to their importunities, and drank a little. Gradually he formed a liking for wine, and at length began taking far too much. By degrees, and almost before he was aware of it, he became a drunkard. He was degraded from his office of the ministry, and sank lower and lower. Years after he had been pressed to drink by his rich friend, he came again to his door; this time to beg for a little food, and was ordered away as a drunken vagabond.
Joseph Ralston, of Philipsburg, Penn., met with a horrible death by freezing. He had been drinking freely, and had, while drunk, to wade the Moshandoo Creek; but, ere he proceeded two-thirds of the way, his limbs refused to perform their office. He grasped a bough of an overhanging tree, unable to advance farther; and soon the fast-congealing water cemented close about him—a tomb of ice which stretched from shore to shore. Two days after he was found there rigid as an icicle, his knees embedded in a sheet of the frozen element seven inches thick, his body inclined a little forwards, his hands clutching the boughs, eyes astare, and despair pictured on his features.—Pittsburgh Despatch.
God trieth men’s love to him by their keeping his commandments. It was the aggravation of the first sin that they would not deny so small a thing as the forbidden fruit, in obedience to God! And so it is of thine, that will not leave a forbidden cup for him. O miserable wretch! dost thou not know thou canst not be Christ’s disciple if thou forsake not all for him, and hate not even thy life in comparison of him, and wouldst die rather than forsake him? And thou like to lay down thy life for him, who wilt not leave a cup of drink for him? Canst thou burn at a stake for him, that canst not leave an alehouse, or vain company, or excess, for him? What a sentence of condemnation dost thou pass upon thyself!—Baxter.
Not in the day of thy drunkenness only dost thou undergo the harm of drunkenness, but also after that day. And as when a fever is passed by, the mischievous consequences of the fever remain, so also when drunkenness is passed, the disturbance of intoxication is whirling round both body and soul. And while the wretched body lies paralyzed, like the hull of a vessel after a shipwreck, the soul, yet more miserable than it, even when this is ended, stirs up the storm and kindles desire; and when one seems to be sober, then most of all is he mad, imagining to himself wine and casks, cups and goblets.—Chrysostom.
“If you have glutted yourselves with worldly pleasures, it is no wonder that you should find an unsavoury taste in spiritual delights. Doves that are already filled find cherries bitter.”—J. Lyth, D.D.
Bountiful King. The Lord, like a most bountiful king, will be angry if any man will ask a small thing at his hands; because he had rather give things of great worth than of small value. His goodness is infinite.—Powell.
Fulness of Christ. I have found it an interesting thing to stand at the edge of a noble rolling river, and to think, that although it has been flowing on for 6000 years, watering the fields, and slaking the thirst of a hundred generations, it shows no sign of waste or want. And when I have watched the rise of the sun as he shot above the crest of the mountain, or, in a sky draped with golden curtains, sprang up from his ocean bed, I have wondered to think that he has melted the snows of so many winters, and renewed the verdure of so many springs, and planted the flowers of so many summers, and ripened the golden harvest of so many autumns, and yet shines as brilliantly as ever; his eye not dim, nor his natural strength abated, nor his floods of lightness fail, for centuries of boundless profusion. Yet what are these but images of the fulness that is in Christ! Let that feed your hopes, and cheer your hearts, and brighten your faith, and send you away this day happy and rejoicing! For when judgment flames have licked up that flowing stream, and the light of that glorious sun shall be quenched in darkness, or veiled in the smoke of a burning world, the fulness of Christ shall flow on through eternity in the bliss of the redeemed. Blessed Saviour! Image of God! Divine Redeemer! In thy presence is fulness of joy; at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore. What thou hast gone to heaven to prepare, may we be called up at death to enjoy!—Dr. Guthrie.
Wife. “And now let us see whether the word ‘wife’ has not a lesson. It literally means a weaver. The wife is the person who weaves. Before our great cotton and cloth factories arose, one of the principal employments in every house was the fabrication of clothing: every family made its own. The wool was spun into threads by the girls, who were therefore called spinsters; the thread was woven into cloth by their mother, who, accordingly, was called the weaver, or the wife; and another remnant of this old truth we discover in the word ‘heirloom,’ applied to any old piece of furniture which has come down to us from our ancestors, and which, though it may be a chair or bed, shows that a loom was an important article in every house. Thus the word ‘wife’ means weaver; and, as Trench well remarks, ‘in the word itself is wrapped up a hint of earnest, indoor, stay-at-home occupation, as being fitted for her who bears the name.’ ”
Pleasures. The pleasures of the world surfeit with satisfying, while heavenly pleasures satisfy without surfeiting. The surfeited nature of the sensualist requires a constantly increasing stimulus to rouse his used-up powers, but with each advance in Christian enjoyment there is an increased power to appreciate heavenly joys. The pleasures of the world are like the kiss of Judas, given but to betray; the pleasures of heaven make the soul bright and beautiful, as when the face of Moses was transformed by the vision of God.—J. G. Pilkington.
Pleasures. Pleasures, like the rose, are sweet, but prickly; the honey doth not countervail the sting; all the world’s delights are vanity, and end in vexation; like Judas, while they kiss, they betray. I would neither be a stone nor an epicure; allow of no pleasure, nor give way to all; they are good sauce, but naught to make a meal of. I may use them sometimes for digestion, never for food.—Henshaw.
Price of pleasure. Goethe, in his “Faust,” introduces for his hero a student longing for the pleasures of knowledge. The devil appears, to seduce him from his pursuit; Faust is to have all possible sensual enjoyment in life, but is to pay for it by yielding his soul to the devil at last. At the end, Mephistopheles, jealous of his claim, appears and carries off his victim, the student’s lost soul.
Anger. I am naturally as irritable as any; but when I find anger, or passion, or any other evil temper, arise in my mind, immediately I go to my Redeemer, and, confessing my sins, I give myself up to be managed by him.—Clarke.
Anger subdued. Two good men on some occasion had a warm dispute; and remembering the exhortation of the Apostle, “Let not the sun go down upon your wrath,” just before sunset one of them went to the other, and knocking at the door, his offended friend came and opened it, and seeing who it was, started back in astonishment and surprise; the other, at the same time, cried out, “The sun is almost down.” This unexpected salutation softened the heart of his friend into affection, and he returned for answer, “Come in, brother, come in.” What a happy method of conciliating matters, of redressing grievances, and of reconciling brethren!—Arvine.
Hypocrisy. A very capital painter in London exhibited a piece representing a friar habited in his canonicals. View the painting at a distance, and you would think the friar to be in a praying attitude: his hands are clasped together and held horizontally to his breast, his eyes meekly demissed like those of the publican in the gospel: and the good man appears to be quite absorbed in humble adoration and devout recollection. But take a nearer survey, and the deception vanishes; the book which seemed to be before him is discovered to be a punch-bowl, into which the wretch is all the while in reality only squeezing a lemon. How lively a representation of a hypocrite!—Salter.
Idols. A man’s idol is not necessarily an image of gold; it may be a child of clay, the fruit of his own loins, or the wife of his bosom; it may be wealth, fame, position, success, or business—anything which absorbs unduly the affections and attention. Against all such the Almighty pronounces the decree: “Thou shalt have no other gods before me,” and hurls his resistless missiles of destruction. Either ourselves or our idols must be destroyed.
Idolatry! You cannot find any more gross, any more cruel, on the broad earth, than within the area of a mile around this pulpit. Dark minds, from which God is obscured; deluded souls, whose fetish is the dice-box or the bottle; apathetic spirits, steeped in sensual abomination, unmoved by a moral ripple, soaking in the swamp of animal vitality; false gods, more hideous, more awful than Moloch or Baal, worshipped with shrieks, worshipped with curses, with the hearthstone for the bloody altar, and the drunken husband for the immolating priest, and women and children for the victims.—Dr. Chapin.
Loss of time. We are doomed to suffer a bitter pang as often as the irrevocable flight of our time is brought home with keenness to our hearts. The spectacle of the lady floating over the sea in a boat, and waking suddenly from sleep to find her magnificent ropes of pearl necklace by some accident detached from its fastening at one end, the loose string hanging down into the water, and pearl after pearl slipping off for ever into the abyss, brings before us the sadness of the case. That particular pearl which at the very moment is rolling off into the unsearchable deep, carries its own separate reproach to the lady’s heart, but is more deeply reproachful as the representative of so many other uncounted pearls that have already been swallowed up irrecoverably while yet she was sleeping, of many, besides, that must follow before any remedy can be applied to what we may call this jewelly hemorrhage.
The intrepid judge. One of the favourites of Henry V., when Prince of Wales, having been indicted for some misdemeanour, was condemned, notwithstanding all the interest he could make in his favour, and the prince was so incensed at the issue of the trial that he struck the judge on the bench. The magistrate, whose name was Sir William Gascoigne, acted with a spirit becoming his character. He instantly ordered the prince to be committed to prison, and young Henry, sensible by this time of the insult he had offered to the laws of his country, suffered himself to be quietly conducted to jail by the officers of justice. The king, Henry IV., who was an excellent judge of mankind, was no sooner informed of this transaction, than he cried out in a transport of joy, “Happy is the king who has a magistrate possessed of courage to execute the laws, and still more happy in having a son who will submit to such chastisement.”—Arvine.
Flattery. The coin most current among mankind is flattery: the only benefit of which is, that, by hearing what we are not, we may learn what we ought to be.
Whitfield, when flattered, said, “Take care of fire: I carry powder about me.”
A flattering priest told Constantine the Great that his virtues deserved the empire of the world here, and to reign with the Son of God hereafter. The emperor cried, “Fie, fie, for shame; let me hear no more such unseemly speeches; but, rather, suppliantly pray to my Almighty Maker, that, in this life and the life to come, I may be reckoned worthy to be his servant.”
Excuses. He that does amiss never lacks excuse. Any excuse will serve when one has not a mind to do a thing. The archer that shoots ill has a lie ready. He that excuses himself accuses himself. A bad workman always complains of his tools.
Wicked counsel. A young man devoted himself to a religious life. His ungodly parents sent him many letters to dissuade him. Being fully decided to go on in his chosen course, when any letters came addressed to him he threw them into the fire at once, without opening them. When friends and kindred stand between us and Christ, they must be disregarded.
Sin. Sin is like the little serpent aspis, which stings men, whereby they fall into a pleasant sleep, and in that sleep die.—Swinnock.
Envy. We shall find it in Cain, the proto-murderer, who slew his brother at the instigation of envy. We shall find in the dark, and gloomy, and revengeful spirit of Saul, who, under the influence of envy, plotted for years the slaughter of David. We shall find it in the king of Israel, when he pined for the vineyard of Naboth, and shed his blood to gain it. Yes; it was envy that perpetrated that most atrocious crime ever planned in hell or executed on earth, on which the sun refused to look, and at which nature gave signs of abhorrence by the rending of the rocks—I mean the crucifixion of Christ, for the evangelist tells us that for envy the Jews delivered our Lord.—J. A. James.
The poets imagined that envy dwelt in a dark cave; being pale and lean-looking as guilt, abounding with gall, her teeth black, never rejoicing but in the misfortunes of others; ever unquiet and careful, and continually tormenting herself.—Wit.
Friendship. True friendship can only be made between true men. Hearts are the soul of honour. There can be no lasting friendship between bad men. Bad men may pretend to love each other; but their friendship is a rope of sand, which shall be broken at any convenient season. But if a man have a sincere heart within him, and be true and noble, then we may confide in him.—Spurgeon.
Ingratitude. A petted soldier of the Macedonian army was shipwrecked, and east upon the shore apparently lifeless. A hospitable Macedonian discovered him, revived him, took him to his home, and treated him in a princely manner, and, when he departed, gave him money for his journey. The rescued soldier expressed warm thanks, and promised royal bounty to his benefactor. Instead, when he came before Philip, he related his own misfortunes, and asked to be rewarded by the lands and house of his rescuer. His request was granted, and he returned, and drove out his former host. The latter hastened to lay the true state before the king; when he restored the land, and caused the soldier to be branded in the forehead, “The Ungrateful Guest,” as the reward of his baseness.
Conscience wakeful. Though in many men conscience sleeps in regard to motion, yet it never sleeps in regard to observation and notice. It may be hard and seared, it can never be blind. Like letters written with the juice of lemon, that which is written upon it, though seemingly invisible and illegible, when brought before the fire of God’s judgment, shall come forth clear and expressive.—M‘Cosh.
Guilty conscience. It gives a terrible form and a horrible voice to everything beautiful and musical without. Let Byron describe its anguish, for who felt it more than he?—
“The mind that broods o’er guilty woes
Is like the scorpion girt by fire;
In circle narrowing as it glows,
The flames around their captive close,
Till inly searched by thousand throes,
And maddening in her ire,
One sad and sole relief she knows—
The sting she nourished for her foes;
Whose venom never yet was vain,
Gives but one pang, and cures all pain,
And darts into her desperate brain;
So do the dark in soul expire,
Or live like scorpion girt with fire.
So writhes the mind remorse has riven,
Unfit for earth, undoomed for heaven,
Darkness above, despair beneath,
Around it flame, within it death.”
Forgiveness. As the prince or ruler only has power to forgive treason in his subjects, so God only has power to forgive sin. As no man can forgive a debt only the creditor to whom the debt is due, so God only can forgive us our debts, whose debtors we are to an incalculable amount. But we know that he is always ready to forgive. “He keeps mercy for thousands, and pardons iniquity, transgression, and sin.”
Forgiveness. In a school in Ireland, one boy struck another, and when he was about to be punished, the injured boy begged for his pardon. The master asked. “Why do you wish to keep him from being flogged?” The boy replied, “I have read in the New Testament that our Lord Jesus Christ said that we should forgive our enemies; and, therefore, I forgive him, and beg he may not be punished for my sake.”
At the present day the green turben which marks descent from Mahomet is often worn in the East by the very poor, and even by beggars. In our own history the glory of the once illustrious Plantagenets so completely waned, that the direct representative of Margaret Plantagenet, daughter and heiress of George, Duke of Clarence, followed the trade of a cobbler in Newport, Shropshire, in 1637. Among the lineal descendants of Edmund of Woodstock, sixth son of Edward I., and entitled to quarter the royal arms, were a village butcher and a keeper of a turnpike gate; and among the descendants of Thomas Plantagenet, Duke of Gloucester, fifth son of Edward III., was included the late sexton of a London church.—Geikie.