CRITICAL AND EXEGETICAL NOTES
Mark 4:39. Arose.—Awoke. Peace, be still.—Be silent! Be muzzled! Mark alone preserves these words, which were doubtless addressed to “the prince of the power of the air,” by whose agency the storm had arisen.
MAIN HOMILETICS OF THE PARAGRAPH.— Mark 4:35-41
(PARALLELS: Matthew 8:18; Matthew 8:23-27; Luke 8:22-25.)
The storm on the lake.—How pleasant it is to stand upon the beach, when there is a glorious sunset, to look upon the vast expanse, to gaze upon the splendid colours of the clouds! Only a gentle ripple disturbs the surface of the water. All nature is preparing for its evening rest. But observe; a vessel is approaching, and others are following. A great Personage is about to embark: the Prophet of Galilee. He has brought consolation to many hearts during the day.; for He has been teaching in the neighbouring towns and healing the sick. And now, having dismissed the multitude, He desires to pass over to the other side of the sea or lake. But as we stand watching the departing ships a breeze springs up. And mark yonder clouds. Observe, Christ’s attendants are taking the necessary precautions, for they know how rapidly a storm gathers on the lake. It is the same to-day. Sir Charles Wilson, when in Galilee some time ago, encountered a violent storm. He says: “The morning was delightful. A gentle easterly breeze, and not a cloud in the sky to give warning of what was coming. Suddenly, about midday, there was a sound of distant thunder, and a small cloud, ‘no bigger than a man’s hand,’ was seen rising over the heights. The cloud appeared to spread, and heavy black masses came rolling down the hills. At the moment the breeze died away, there were a few minutes of perfect calm. But soon the thunder-gust, advancing across the lake, lifted the placid water into a bright sheet of foam. For more than an hour … peals of thunder and torrents of rain.” It was just such a storm as this that overwhelmed Christ’s ship, and yet we read that the Redeemer was asleep in the hinder part of the ship—asleep, tired, fatigued. I like to think of Christ sleeping. It shews that He had our nature. We have a Saviour who has ascended into the highest heaven, and yet who sympathises with our infirmities because He is man. “Without one sign of confusion, without one feeling of alarm, Jesus raised Himself from the dripping stern of the labouring and half-sinking vessel, and without further movement stilled the tempest of their souls by the quiet words, “Why so cowardly, O ye of little faith?’ ” And then rising up, standing in all the calm of a natural majesty, He gazed forth into the darkness, and His voice was heard amid the roaring of the troubled elements, saying, “Peace, be still!” and instantly the wind dropped, and there was a great calm.
I. To succeed and be safe in our passage through life we must have Christ with us.—There are men who commenced life, so to speak, in a very small ship, and they felt how helpless they would be if any storm should arise. Night after night, and day by day, they implored Christ to be with them, to give them health, prosperity, and success. Those men reached their harbour, sold their goods, built a large ship, Christ again with them. No storm ever overwhelmed them. To-day they give Him all the honour. But there are men who believe they can dispense with the Divine Presence. Have they not wealth? Have they not excellent investments? Why, they could get through any storm. And then they are put to the test. Slowly the clouds gather, the wind rises, and then secretly they begin to feel matters are getting serious. But still they hope to weather the storm. Something will happen; they must be more careful in future. I knew just such a man. He rose from a humble position to one of great wealth; but he refused to give God the honour. He boasted openly of his own good management, whereby he had succeeded so well; and first one loss came, and then another, until at last he was overwhelmed. No Christ in the ship. Oh, my brethren, if you desire lasting success, if you would have help in trouble, if you hope to reach the other side in safety, ask Christ to accompany you in the ship!
II. It was a difficult matter to follow Christ’s ship because of the boisterous waves.—The vessels that followed Christ’s ship must have encountered the same storm. No one ever yet found it an easy matter to follow Christ because of the forces against us. There is the flesh to contend with, the World and the Evil One to encounter. In your own strength you will not be able to follow Christ, to obey His commandments; so frail is human nature, what are you to do? Christ has promised to give you such help that you can always be victorious. This help is called grace. But if you do not ask Him for what He has promised to give, and as a result are unable to resist the storm of the flesh or the powers of darkness—if you lose paradise, it will be your own fault; you can blame no one but yourself.
III. Divine aid interposing when all human power has failed.—God permits “human affairs to proceed to a given point, and at the vital moment outstretches His arm.” Have you never seen Him do that? Have you never observed some illness suddenly take a favourable turn, or a perplexity vanish, or the prodigal repent, at the request of some praying one? Some time ago a vessel was sailing through Lake Erie. It was early in the season, and great blocks of ice were floating about. All at once the captain saw that the ice was closing the ship in on all sides. He summoned the passengers, and informed them of the position. He said nothing but the direct interference of Almighty God could save the ship. Immediately all knelt down and asked for help, and after a few minutes the man at the wheel shouted that it was all right now; the wind was changing, and blowing the ice out of the way. Divine aid comes when human power fails. Ah! there is a moment coming for us all when no earthly friend will be able to assist us, when the words are heard, “Pass over to the other side.” Then if we have not Divine aid, what shall we do? But if we have Christ with us, we shall possess His peace, we shall be safe for eternity.—E. R. Sill.
The Church in peril.—
I. The Church is like a ship.—Noah’s Ark was a type of Christ’s Church, in that as he and his family were saved in the ark from perishing by water, so we, by being admitted into the Church, are by baptismal water saved from perishing. So the Church tells us in her office of baptism, where she drives on the allegory throughout, praying that God would sanctify the child with the Holy Ghost, that he, being delivered from wrath, may be received into the ark of Christ’s Church, and, being steadfast in faith, may so pass the waves of this troublesome world, that finally he may come to the land of everlasting life. Nor is the ark alone so appropriate a resemblance of the Church, as that any ordinary ship may not, in some kind or other, represent it, whether it be for passage, for merchandise, or for war. Look we on the make and build of it; ’tis fitly compacted and framed together, both for strength and beauty. If we consider it in its furniture and tackle, it has its compass to sail by, the Word of God; its sails of devout affections, to be filled with the breathings of His Spirit; and its anchor of hope to stay itself upon, the merits of His Son. If we regard the design of a ship to go from port to port, ours is bound heavenward; for we seek a country, even the land of everlasting life, as ye heard before. The Church entertains passengers to waft them into the regions of bliss; it has her cargo of Divine truths; and as a man-of-war, too, she is all along throughout her whole voyage militant. As to her manage and conduct, she has Christ for her Pilot, and under Him the Chief Magistrate to steer the vessel and to govern the ship’s crew. But in no one thing is the Church more like to a ship than in those frequent dangers and jeopardies she is to undergo,—dangers from without; all the elements as it were conspiring her ruin; rocks and shelves to split her; flats and quicksands to founder her; tempests and storms of persecutions to overwhelm her; corsairs and pirates, all her ghostly foes, to attack her,—dangers from within, by leaks of schism and division, and many other casualties through negligence or ill government.
II. Distress is a very fit season for devotion.—The sense of present danger awakens the worst of men to the practice of this duty of prayer, and our earnest prayer awakens God to our relief. The psalmist tells us that at God’s word or command the stormy wind arises which lifteth up the waves. And probably for this very reason God sometimes causes, or at least most times permits, storms and troubles to arise upon His Church, that His people, who, when they are safe and see all things quiet about them, are too apt to forget God, and refuse to hearken to the still voice of His Word and to obey His commandments, may from such terrible dismal instances of danger learn to fear Him, to adore His majesty, to acknowledge His power, to implore His goodness, and in their great distress to cry unto Him for help: “Save, Lord, or else we perish.”
III. Our extremity is God’s opportunity.—I have read a dismal description of a shipwreck in a Greek romance—when all the passengers, and seamen too, with hands and eyes and hearts lifted up to heaven, fetched the last shriek, expecting with their tattered vessel immediately to go down quick to the bottom of the sea. And when men are in such a posture of danger, how is God’s mercy signalised at such a time in their preservation? This, I say, is business in ordinary providence; but when the ship, which Himself with His almighty care and skill has undertaken to steer and bring to her desired port, when the safety and interest of His Church and people, is reduced to extremity, how much more reason have we to expect the extraordinary effects of His power and goodness, who both can and will provide for His, when they are destitute of all other help? When a Church or nation is, to the eye of man, in all human probability, given up for lost, when all other helps and means fail, then is God’s time to come in at a dead lift, who is already help in the needful time of trouble. There is nothing so secret which He cannot bring to light, nothing so strong which can resist His power, nothing so cunningly contrived which He cannot disappoint.
IV. Christ, as He is the Founder of our religion, so He is the sole Author of our deliverances.—To Thee, O holy Jesu, who wast the Founder of our faith and holy profession, we fly in all our distresses, as to our only Deliverer. In Thy merits and satisfaction, in Thy mediation and intercessions, alone we fix the anchor of our hope. In Thy saving health we repose all our trust and ground our assurance. To Thee alone it is that we address our requests. Thy patronage alone is all-sufficient for our direction in life, for our protection in danger. Thou art the way and the truth and the life—the way in Thy holy example, the truth in Thy heavenly doctrine, and the life in the application of Thy merit.—Adam Littleton, D.D.
OUTLINES AND COMMENTS ON THE VERSES
Mark 4:35. “Unto the other side.”—
1. A watchword of faith, breaking through all narrow boundaries.
2. A watchword of love, overcoming all selfishness.
3. A watchword of courage, overcoming all dangers.—J. P. Lange, D.D.
Christ is continually saying the same to us, though with varying meaning in His words. He is ever calling us to pass over some line into new fields, with their new experiences, privileges, duties, conflicts, joys.
1. He says it to the impenitent, when He graciously invites them to become His disciples. He wants them to cut loose from this world, from sin and all their old dead past, and rise up and go with Him to the better life which lies beyond.
2. He gives the same call and invitation to His people, when they reach the end of earthly life, and He comes to take them home. Before them rolls the sea of death, dark and full of terrors to the natural sense. But on “the other side” glory waits.—J. R. Miller, D.D.
Mark 4:36. Christ on board.—Christ will come on board your boat. Life has often been described as a voyage, and it is an appropriate description. He will come, I say, on board the barque in which your destiny is being carried forward. He will start with you if you want Him. He will identify Himself with the poorest if only you are a disciple, if you are willing to sit at His feet and learn of Him. Will you take Him then as He is? will you make common cause with Him? Evidently this manner of man will sail the seas of time with anybody who will simply be friends with Him, who will lie down and be at peace with Him. Are you of that disposition towards Him?—J. McNeill.
Where the Lord is there should His servants and apostles be,—in danger as well as in peace; as feeding the multitude, so sharing in His troubled and evening voyage: not only treading in His footsteps, but partaking in the holy confidence of their Master’s faith, who committed Himself with all confidence to the winds and waves.—W. Scott.
These “other little ships” doubtless enjoyed a share in the blessing of calm obtained by the ship that bare Jesus. I have sometimes thought that they picture vividly the fortunes of these societies, that, in these later ages, have moved in the wake of the ancient Apostolic Church, that with it are forced to endure the storms of a world impartially hostile to every form of religious effort, and that are not without participating in the blessings of the Holy Presence, abiding in that Church as long as in sincerity of heart they endeavour to keep up with the Master in His course (Mark 9:38; Exodus 12:38; 1 Corinthians 1:2; Ephesians 6:24).—W. A. Butler.
Mark 4:37-40. Christ’s victory over feeble-minded unbelief.—
1. He leads little faith into danger.
2. He lets it wrestle with the peril to the utmost point.
3. He convicts, humbles, and heals it.—J. P. Lange, D.D.
Here Christ exhibits Himself as—
1. The true and holy Man.
2. The wise and gracious Master.
3. The almighty and adorable Son of God.—Ibid.
An image of the Christian life.—
1. The threatening danger.
2. The growing anxiety.
3. The delivering might.
4. The rising thanks.—Ibid.
Trial and deliverance work together.—
1. To reveal the Lord.
2. To train His people.
3. To advance the coming of His kingdom.—Ibid.
The Sea of Galilee is an inland lake surrounded by hills, save at each of its extremities, where are narrow passages, affording an entrance and outlet to the Jordan. The river, flowing through the lake, creates a current, which is felt even to the very shores. Like all other inland seas surrounded by mountains, the lake, though usually placid, is subject to sudden gusts from the hollows of the mountains, and to violent eddies and storms, short in duration, but violent in their effects. Especially when the storm-gusts sweep down upon the lake from the south (the direction in which the boat was to proceed), the wind meeting and opposing the current of the Jordan, soon lashes the surface into fury.
Christ’s presence causes storms.—Until Christ was in the ship, there was no storm. While men have pillows sewn under their elbows, all is peace; but so soon as Christ rebukes the world of sin, the wicked are like the raging sea, that cannot rest, whose waters cast up dirt and mire.—Dean Boys.
Suddenness of life’s storms.—Thus many of life’s storms come. Temptations come when we are not looking for them. So disasters come. We are at peace in a happy home. At an hour when we think not, without warning, the darling child we love so much lies dead in our arms. The friend we trusted, and who we thought could never fail us, proves false. The hopes cherished for years wither in our hands in a night, like flowers when the frost comes. The storms of life are nearly all sudden surprises. They do not hang out danger-signals days before to warn us. The only way to be ready for them is to be always ready.—-J. R. Miller, D.D.
Mark 4:38. Christ asleep.—He who “never slumbereth nor sleepeth” is asleep! Not that He seemed to sleep, as has been said, but “He was asleep.” Now, as God, of course our Lord could not, did not, sleep, it was only in His humanity that “His eyes were heavy to sleep.” But more than this may be said. He slept, it may be, for a purpose, i.e. to shew the apostles that where He was there was no real danger, and to teach Christian souls calmly and faithfully to repose on Him, while all outward things seem most distressing.—W. Scott.
Asleep amid storms.—What are the world’s angry storms—the miserable uncertainties and chances of this mortal life—the malice of evil angels—the tossing about of mingled hopes and fears: nay, what is the nearness of death itself, what is danger, what is fear, to the faithful Christian? Like his Lord, he may sleep calmly through all the wild commotions of the world, in prayer it must have been, and converse with His and our Heavenly Father.—Ibid.
Salvation spiritual.—The spirit of Christ, not the body of Christ, must save the Church in all peril. The sleeping body was in the vessel, but it exercised no influence upon the storm. It is possible to have an embalmed Christ, and yet to have no Christianity. It is also possible to have the letter of Christ’s Word without the spirit and power of His truth.—J. Parker, D.D.
Unbelief.—I. Some of the circumstances in which this question of unbelief arises in the mind.—In relation to—
1. Temporal things: poverty, adversity, distress, sickness, bereavement, danger.
2. Spiritual things: darkness, loneliness, temptation.
3. Others: sunk in ignorance and sin.
II. How Christ rebukes our unbelief; and the proofs which God has given that He cares for us.—
1. The instincts which God has implanted in the human heart.
2. The ample provision He has made for all our necessities.
3. The fact that others care for us.
4. Even the storms through which we pass are often the result of God’s care for us: “Whom I love I rebuke and chasten.”
Conclusion.—If God so cares for us, we ought to—
1. Care for ourselves.
2. Care for those around us.
3. Cast all our cares upon Him.—A. Clark.
Signs of a weak faith.—
1. Fear in danger.
2. Doubt of the Lord’s power in danger.
3. Anxious solicitude about earthly things.
4. Impatience under trouble (Isaiah 28:16).
Fear and faith.—Though fear caused self-abandonment, faith provided guidance to the right person. Fear commanded, “Drop your oar.” Faith directed, “Go to Jesus.” Fear said, “Your case is hopeless.” Faith said, “Seek safety in Christ.” Fear made them ready to go. Faith led in the right way. Fear cried, “We perish! we perish!” Faith prayed, “Master, carest Thou not? Lord, save! save!”
A model prayer.—It was short, appropriate, fervent. The disciples knew what they wanted, and they asked for it. Our prayers often fail to gain us a blessing because they lack definiteness. In a long prayer we have sometimes been prayed into a good frame of mind and out of it. Dr. Talmage suggests that, in the case of most of our prayers, they would be better and more helpful if we were to cut off a bit from each end and set fire to the middle. The prayer of the disciples did what the storm had failed to do. There is an instinctive tendency in the human heart to pray when confronted suddenly by imminent peril, e. g. Jonah 1:13-14; Psalms 107:5-6; Psalms 107:11-13; Psalms 107:17-19; Psalms 107:28. “Some will never pray until they are half starved.”
Mark 4:39. Trials not always calamities.—Had the apostles been inquired of before the storm ceased, they would have replied that the tempest was a great misfortune, that they were much to be pitied, that they were in the very greatest peril. But was it so? Was the storm such a calamity? It was a trial, and for the time a bitter one; but it wrought good, unalloyed good, in the end. And is not this a parable of life?
1. The ancients were wont constantly to use the figure of a ship as a similitude of the Church of Christ; and our Baptismal Office preserves this ancient usage, when we pray that the newly baptised may be received into the Ark of Christ’s Church, and may so pass the waves of this troublesome world as finally to attain the land of life. The Church, then, is as a ship, often tossed by tempest, sometimes seeming to the eye of man as if it were now full of water, ready to sink, but yet never sinking, because Christ is in her. She has been in great danger, so that her crew have been compelled to cast out with their own hands the lading of the ship, her possessions and her dignities; but yet, at the hour of greatest need, has she been rescued by Him who never left her—who seemed to sleep, but yet who suffered the storm to arise—even by Him who never slumbers nor sleeps in His providential government. As the infant Church, represented by the apostles, was tossed upon the Sea of Galilee, so is the Christian Church by the waves of the world, the machinations of evil spirits, the pride and the passion of men; and as the apostles rose up after their trial stronger in the faith, so even now does tribulation better than prosperity develop that which is good. And herein all faithful members of the Church may thank God and take courage, even in troublous times. Her ministers may not fear, though it may seem as if Jesus was asleep, as if He hid His face and would not behold; they may take courage when they see the wicked in great prosperity, and Satan ruling over the hearts of many, and holding them in ignorance and sin. Yet still the storm has its lessons specially for them. It teaches them to be up and doing, to ply the oars, to trim the sails, to take good heed to the rudder, to cry aloud to the Captain of their salvation, and thus to do their part to make the vessel weather the storm. But when they have done all that they can, it teaches them to leave the result in the hands of God; it teaches them to expect a favourable issue—an issue which will make the glory of God apparent.
2. We, the members of the Church of Christ, are also sailing over the stormy main. We have our peculiar difficulties and trials, each one his own: sometimes secular trials, sometimes spiritual trials. In either case we find that the ocean of our life is not always calm: there are storms and tempests in it, there are fierce and sudden gusts, and sometimes we may almost have despaired and thought that our vessel was ready to sink. Have we in such a case been tempted to cry, “Lord, carest Thou not that we perish?” The earnest Christian will have ever found, sooner or later, an answer of peace.—W. S. Simpson, M.A.
Safety in Christ.—Whether sinner or saint, unbeliever or believer, we are alike voyaging upon the sea of life. Perils abound in shoal and reef. Dangers gather and threaten in tempest and billow. The storm is stronger, the sea is mightier, than we. Our open boat—a frail craft—will be crushed and sunken in the dark night and black waters, unless the Master speaks the word of peace and brings the calm. In Him is safety. In Him only is life. He cares for us with infinite mercy. We will go to Him reposing on His might and trusting in His love.
Christ yields to the cry of an imperfect faith, and so strengthens it. If He did not, what would become of any of us? He does not quench the dimly burning wick, but tends it and feeds it with oil—by His inward gifts and by His answers to prayer—till it burns up clear and smokeless, a faith without fear. Even smoke needs but a higher temperature to flame; and fear which is mingled with faith needs but a little more heat to be converted into radiance of trust.—A. Maclaren, D.D.
Self-possession.—Well were it for men if, in life’s trials, larger measures of the mastery of self-possession were enjoyed. It can be cultivated. The conscious resting of the soul on God inspires and strengthens it. That helps it to possess and guide instead of being possessed and driven. It converts tyrants into useful servants. Self-possessed utterance and action nerve. The disjointed ones of despair spread paralysis. The former would thus greatly help people either to act more efficiently or endure more heroically.—W. M. Campbell.
The duty of resistance.—Some pious people resign themselves much too passively to the mischiefs of the material universe, supposing that troubles which are not of their own making must needs be a Divine infliction, calling only for submission. But God sends oppositions to be conquered as well as burdens to be borne; and even before the Fall the world had to be subdued. And our final mastery over the surrounding universe was expressed when Jesus our Head rebuked the winds and stilled the waves.—Dean Chadwick.
Christ in the storm.—St. Augustine, who knew as well as most men what the storms of temptation are, and better than most men what the deliverance is, and by whom the victory comes, often in his writings refers to this passage of the Evangelist, and those Psalms like the 46th and 93rd and 107th, where we almost seem to hear the roaring of the waters and the voice of God above them. In one of these he sums up the practical application of the miracle in language that cannot be bettered: “We are sailing in this life as through a sea, and the wind rises and storms of temptations are not wanting. Whence is this, save because Jesus is sleeping in thee? If He were not sleeping in thee thou wouldst have calm within. But what means this, that Jesus is sleeping in thee, save that thy faith, which is from Jesus, is slumbering in thine heart? What shalt thou do to be delivered? Arouse Him and say, Master, we perish. He will awaken—that is, thy faith will return to thee and abide with thee always. When Christ is awakened, though the tempest beat into yet it will not fill thy ship; thy faith will now command the winds and the waves, and the danger will be over.”
Mark 4:40. Responsible for faith.—Christ treats the disciples as responsible for the defectiveness of their faith. Christians may live on so low a level as to be affected by influences which depress their energies, and render them liable to many faults and shortcomings, which, although not fastening guilt upon the conscience, are in the aggregate a serious evil. The kindness of Christ does not degenerate into indulgence, by shielding His delinquent disciples from the reproof they merited. The reproach which they alleged against Him of not caring for them was groundless and irreverent. He reproaches them in return, but in a different spirit, not by way of retaliation, but because the necessities of the case required it. He chides them, not for disturbing His rest, but for harbouring fears that disturbed their own souls.—J. H. Morgan.
The faithless reproved.—Consider this reproof as addressed to—
1. Men commanded to receive Christ, which is the case of all who hear the gospel. If He had not told you to go over to the other side, away from this world, as your home and portion, then there might be ground of fear that attempting to do so you might fail and perish in the storm of this world’s opposition; but He has said, “Go over to the other side,” yea, “Come over,” for He will be with you, and hence to tremble and hesitate and doubt is wicked distrust of Him.
2. Those who shrink from Christian duty.
(1) They who withhold themselves from open profession.
(2) They who lag behind in the path of spiritual progress, and who, instead of stirring themselves up, groan and despond.
(3) They who take a dark view of the prospects of the Ark of God and of Christian work.
3. Such as are disposed to faint in time of trial.—D. Merson.
Mark 4:41. “What manner of man is this?”—This is the question for every individual, for every age, to consider. Christ is the great problem of history, of theology, of life. What is He? He is man; but what manner of man? He is more than mature, more than the sum-total of its powers. We do not exhaust Him when we say He is a man, nor when we say He is the man, standing at the head of the race by virtue of pre-eminent gifts. He is the God-man, who stands equal with God on the high level of Deity, and equal with man on the low level of humanity.—J. Hughes.
The Ruler of the storm.—Dr. Liddon, speaking of political opposition to Christianity, says: “During the first three centuries, and finally under Julian, the heathen state made repeated and desperate attempts to suppress it by force. Statesmen and philosophers undertook the task of eradicating it.… More than once they drove it from the army, from the professions, from the public thoroughfares, into secrecy; they pursued it into the vaults beneath the palaces of Rome, into the catacombs, into the deserts.… The hordes which shattered the work of the Cæsars learnt to repeat the Catholic creed, and a new order of things had formed itself when the tempest of Mohammedanism broke upon Christendom. Politically speaking, this was perhaps the most threatening storm through which the Christian Church passed.… The last trial of the Church was the first French Revolution … which for a while seemed to threaten its total suppression. Yet the men of the Terror have passed, as the Cæsars had passed before them; and, like the Cæsars, they have only proved to the world that the Church carries within her One who rules the fierce tempests in which human institutions are wont to perish.”
ILLUSTRATIONS TO CHAPTER 4
Mark 4:38. Christ sometimes seems to sleep in our hearts, as He did in the ship, when temptation assails. It is but to try our faith, for if He be there we are safe. It is recorded of St. Catherine of Siena that, on one occasion, after being subjected to most horrible temptation in thought for several days, during which God seemed to have hidden His face from her, when the temptation, to which she had never consented, had passed away, and she felt again her Lord’s presence within her, she said to Him, “O Lord, where wast Thou when I was so tempted?” “In thy heart, My child,” was the reply; “if I had not been there, thou wouldst have yielded.”
Safety where Christ is.—The greatest hero of antiquity, once exposed to the dangers of shipwreck, roused the sinking spirits of his crew by crying aloud amidst the din of the winds and waves, and exclaiming to the helmsman of the vessel, almost ready to desert his charge, “The vessel which carries Cæsar and his fortunes can never sink!” Might not the apostles of the Lord have learnt a lesson even from the heathen conqueror, and applied his words in their truest and highest form?—“The vessel that carries Jesus can never perish!”
The world in God’s hands.—In the Fiji Islands a man-of-war was overtaken by a storm. The commander, instead of trusting to the anchor, got up steam and plunged right into the hell of waters that seethed around him. The vessel, after moments of suspense, began to make headway, and soon rose and fell on the waves of the open sea. We, too, are going ahead. We have a tremendous propelling power, not the gates of hell will prevail against it. When a man gets into a moody state about the outlook in the world, he should go and take a night’s sleep, and let God look after His own world. What did these fishermen take our Lord for? They forgot; they should have remembered their sailing orders, which were bound to be carried out.
The minds in God’s hands.—A coasting vessel was caught in a trap on the east coast of Scotland. That is a bay, crescent-shaped, in which vessels, in the stress of a storm, take refuge, and are sometimes caught in it. This vessel was beating to get out of the trap. The chances were all against her. As the captain kicked off his sea-boots preparatory to doing battle with the waves, when the boat would founder on the rocks, he thought of his wife, in a neighbouring town, and his little girl. Before the vessel struck he thought of Him who stilled the waves on the Lake of Galilee. He went to his cabin, and he was heard to say, “O God, give us but two points, just two points!” He came on deck, and the wind had shifted just two points. They weathered that strip of land and escaped from the trap into the open sea. Do you believe that? Do you believe that it is God’s world, that He holds the winds in His fists, and the waters in the hollow of His hands?
Mark 4:41. “What manner of man?”—Be it legend or history, the story of royal Cnut on the seashore, forbidding, at his flatterers’ instigation, or by his own desire to rebuke their folly, forbidding the farther approach of the incoming tide, is pregnant with instruction. The royal Dane might be a man of men, but the surging waves were not obedient unto his voice. King though he was, the tide was responseless as the deaf adder to any charming of his, charmed he never so wisely, enjoined he never so sternly. What manner of man, then, but the Son of Man? What manner of king but the King of kings? An older king than Cnut, and not a wiser, not only lashed the winds that blew contrary to his will, but bound the sea with fetters, after a sort: “Ipsum compedibus qui vinxerat Ennosigæum.” Much good it did him: witness his return from his great expedition, in a poor skiff, wind-tossed across waves red with the blood of his slaughtered host. The stars in their courses once fought against Sisera, and the fettered waves were little more propitious to speed the fortunes of Xerxes. He might have spared his chains. At any rate he lost his army. Archdeacon Hare practically applied the extravagance of the Great King, as they of Persia were styled, in designating the present (or, rather, what was then the present) as an age when men will scoff at the madness of Xerxes, yet themselves try to fling their chains over the ever-rolling, irrepressible ocean of thought; nay, they will scoop out a mimic sea in their pleasure ground, he goes on to say, and make it ripple and bubble, and spout up prettily into the air, and then fancy they are taming the Atlantic, which, however, keeps advancing upon them, until it sweeps them away with their toys.—F. Jacox.
Mr. Carlyle made a picturesque application of the royal Dane’s injunction to the waves, in his survey of the advancing tide of the French Revolution—grim host marching on, the black-browed Marseillese in the van, with hum and murmur, far heard; like the ocean tide, “drawn up, as if by Luna and Influences, from the great deep of waters, they roll gleaming on; no king, Cnut or Louis, can bid them roll back.” To quite another effect is Judge Haliburton’s application of the incident, in his panegyric on the capabilities of the Southampton docks. It was here, he says, that Cnut sat in his armchair, to show his courtiers (after he gave up drinking and murder) that, though he was a mighty prince, he could not control the sea. “Well, what Cnut could not do, your dock company has accomplished. It has actually said to the sea, ‘Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther’; and the waves have obeyed the mandate.”—Ibid.
Some dream, says Cowper, that
… “they can silence when they will
The storm of passion, and say, ‘Peace, be still’:
But ‘Thus far and no farther,’ when addressed
To the wild wave, or wilder human breast,
Implies authority that never can,
That never ought to be the lot of man.”