Chapter i. 5. "I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon." BLACK, BUT COMELY. HE blackness was caused by the look of the sun-"Look THE blackness, Whe not upon me, because I am black, because the sun hath looked upon me ""* (ver. 6). The image is a very striking one. Not only did the sun glare upon the observer, but it was like the brilliant eye of a bird of prey, looking down from some great height upon that which it proposed to seize and destroy. The text is wholly Oriental in its figure, and has been thus rendered— "Dark as the Kedareen tents of black goat's hair, beautiful as the royal pavilions with their rich hangings." The passage may be so adapted as to bring into view the twofold quality of human nature as revealed in the Scriptures: in one respect black enough; in another respect comely beyond all other loveliness. This would be fanciful and doubtful if the verse stood alone; but it does not. Throughout the Bible this doctrine is presented as the true view of human nature, namely, "black, but comely." The whole Bible preaches with unity this fundamental and sacred doctrine. To force this particular text into this particular meaning would be unjust to the writer of the song; but the contrast is so established and elaborated and illustrated by other parts of the Bible, that it becomes legitimate to seize this beautiful expression as indicating in very graphic terms the reality of the aspect which we present to heaven as men, namely, "black, but comely." Let us see if this be not so, and in order to make the doctrine the more apparent let us set, as it were, side by side man's view of himself and God's view of man as man is in Christ Jesus, and in the whole purpose and scope of grace divine. The first speaker should be man. What says he ? Listen: "Behold, * See note, post, p. 142 I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me." There is a recognition of the blackness of human nature. Let the second speaker be God himself. What does he say? Listen with still more steadfastness and reverent attention: "Thy renown went forth among the heathen for thy beauty: for it was perfect through my comeliness, which I had put upon thee, saith the Lord God." Setting these two testimonies side by side, what have we but a variation of the text, "Black, but comely"? Let man speak again, "Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips." That indictment is severe enough; there is no line of self-exculpation in it. Let God reply: "Lo, this hath touched thy lips; and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged." Once more, set these two quotations, both from the prophecies of Isaiah, side by side, and we have the text in another and striking form, showing how true it is that man is "black, but comely." Let man again state his own case, "O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" Is there any deliverance possible? Is it always with man to be in a state of bondage and humiliation and infamy? Let God reply: "These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." So the testimony is not all upon one side. There are two aspects of human nature. We must take both aspects into our view, if we would form a just judgment of the case as God regards it. Let man speak again: "The law of sin which is in my members,”—a blackness I cannot get rid of; I cannot wash out the stain; if I relieve the surface of its deepest colour all the flush of darkness returns suddenly and completely. Let God reply: "The Lord hath put away thy sin." When God puts away a man's sin, who can find it? God says he will cast our sins "behind" him. Behind the Infinite! who has ever ventured into that locality? Once more let man utter his moan: "I am carnal, sold under sin." It is as if Christ heard that voice, and could not be silent under its appeal, for the passage which we next quote would seem to be a reply and a gospel rejoinder: "" Son, be of good cheer; thy sins be forgiven thee." Is man yet done with the utterance of his lamentation? He speaks yet again: "I am a sinful man, O Lord." Let God reply from heaven as to his view of the Church when it has undergone the whole process of Christ's purification and the inspiration of the Holy Ghost: "Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair." Man has still another speech to make. It is wonderful what variety of expression may be given to the deepest convictions; such convictions seem to create their own language; whilst the one of contrition and self-abhorrence would seem to be one, yet if we listen attentively how rich and varied is the passion of the tone! Listen: "I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes." Hear the Lord: "Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee." Jesus Christ will purify unto himself "a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing." Let the greatest Christian that ever lived speak, and even in his tone we should find contrition, penitence, self-despair: "In me (that is, in my flesh) dwelleth no good thing." Now for other words, "Perfect in Christ Jesus"; "Holy and without blemish "sanctified, body, soul, and spirit: the miracle completed. Is there no encouragement along this treatment of the subject? Does not the line lie in pleasant places? Man never yet complained justly and sincerely of himself without eliciting from God a corresponding reply: Hope thou in God; he will find water for thee in the desert; when thy way is blocked up with solid rock he will melt the stone or powder it, that thou mayest pass straight on to thine appointed destiny. Do not let us rest in the narrow and cold prison of our own shame and penitence and self-abhorrence. We might listen unto ourselves until we fell into complete despair. We are not to dwell upon the "black"; we are to look towards the " comely"; we are not to listen to ourselves beyond a given point, or our own voice of accusation will drive us mad: we must be still, and listen to Christ's appeal. A passage like this entitles us to look at the best aspects of our nature and circumstances. Dwell upon the second part of the text, saying again and again, as if repeating the refrain of a song-"but comely"; weak, but strong. Hear how beautifully the two views have been put together in some of the apostolic statements: "Hearken, my beloved brethren, Hath not God chosen the poor of this world rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them that love him?" See again what a contrast is here "The poor of this world," but "rich in faith.” Hear the Apostle Paul: "As unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and, behold, we live; as chastened, and not killed; as sorrowful, yet alway rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things." So, then, no undue strain has been put upon the text. If at first we seemed to employ it as a mere accommodation, the choice, for this purpose, has been amply vindicated by the citations which are before us. It would seem from beginning to end of the Bible as if there were two selves in every man; two distinct aspects of character; two voices always pleading within the court of conscience, memory, and imagination. Blessed is he who listens to the clear voice of heaven-to the hopeful gospel voice. Yet in order to hear that voice in all its distinctness we must first hear our own in all the bitterness of its lamentation, in all the poignancy of its moaning: the comeliness comes out in contrast to the blackness, and we must not spoil the contrast by removing one of the elements needful to it. Again and again must we remember that we shall not know grace until we have known sin; we shall have no ear for the gospel until we have been deafened by the thunders of the accusing law. How, then, stands the case as presenting a contrast? It may stand thus: a man may say, I had a body, a physical frame; but that body seems to be but a sphere in which pain can have all its own way; at best it is a dying body, at best I am but a leaseholder, and the lease is running out most rapidly; nay, I can hardly call myself a leaseholder, for were I such I could lay claim to a certain definite period of time; I am rather a tenant-at-will, I may be dismissed to-morrow. So a man might moan about his body; but the text, and all the collateral passages which are before us, entitle us to say, We have a body, but we have also a soul; whilst looking at the one we become melancholy, we hardly care to live; all life is shadowed by a coming tomb. A melancholy figure at the end of life throws its adumbration upon all the path we tread, and we walk through darkness: that is one view; but we must not give way to that unhappy spell; at best that view is only a half truth; we must be encouraged to look at the other aspect: there is a voice which tells us that we are not all body; we are mind, we are spirit, we are will; we were made in the image and likeness of God: "Dust thou art, to dust returnest, was not spoken of the soul." How many men need this encouraging voice to be all day ringing in their ears! So prone are they to take the dark view, and to yield to all fleshly burden and temptation and difficulty. It is the business of the Church, of all its gospel ministers and gospel services, to cheer them, to present the large view, to introduce the light. So a man might say, Why should I live? I am more localised than the birds of the air; they can fly, I can only walk; where I stand before a river unable to cross it the tiniest bird that flutters its weak wing can fly over the stream, and would seem in doing so to mock my feebleness. I am a prisoner of space; I feel the burden of space; I would willingly give up this spark of consciousness that I might have rest in forgetfulness. So a man might talk. A man talking so is on the highway to melancholia or suicide. Is there no other aspect? You are localised, but you have imagination—that wondrous faculty which creates new heavens and a new earth, in which dwelleth righteousness; that divine power that knows no limit. There is no searching of the capacity of an inspired and purified imagination; even shadows are wrought into the wizardry of its parabolism; even pain, weakness, suffering-these are dragged on its chariot-wheels, and made to grace the day of its festival. We have not yet used our upper selves; we have been content to be kept down, humbled, scorned, degraded. What a feast we might have had of reason! What intercourse with all the higher spirits that minister subtly and invisibly in all the economy of life! What a forecast of destiny we might have enjoyed! We might have been in heaven! There is no reason why even now men should not mingle with the whiterobed saints in light, with the sons of the morning: what little drawback there is to this high banqueting is but a reminder that yet we have to encounter the last foe, and throw him in the final wrestling. It is again the business of the Church, and all its ministers and services and functions, to bring men to see the larger view, to draw them away from dwelling mopingly upon |