may not unwrite, or

the ordinance, broken the everlasting covenant." Not, they have transgressed minor laws about which there may be debate, changed ordinances of human appointment and institution; but, they have broken laws and ordinances that are associated with the everlasting covenant-the unwritten and unwritable law. Here a broad distinction must be made between things that are outward and things that are inward, between things transient and things everlasting. It is never wise to transgress a law. Even where the law itself is open to amendment, it must be approached patiently and steadfastly with a view to its being legitimately and constitutionally changed. Its transgression must be a solemn . and final act, done not in hot blood, but done by men who have just risen from their knees in an act of worship and adoration. It is never well to change an ordinance hastily, merely for the sake of changing it. Ordinances even of an imperfect kind help to keep society steady, to centralise it, to suggest standards of judgment and criticism, to mark points of progress. There is an everlasting covenant that man not having written attempt to obliterate or to mutilate in any degree. That everlasting covenant must be good, because it could come only from one Lawgiver, and his name is God. If in very deed it is an "everlasting" covenant, by that very qualification it defines itself as a covenant made by the living Lord. Seek out his law, hide it in your heart, love it more than you love your daily bread, and they who thus honour the Lord's law shall be delivered and comforted, brought to the highest point of spiritual culture, and set in the infinite security of heaven. Who does not rejoice that there is a spirit of judgment in the universe? A languishing world should give us pleasure; a fading tree, provided that tree is an upas tree, should make us shout for joy. When the bad man is brought to justice, righteous men should sing the praises of God. When the thief is caught, when the evildoer feels the cold hand of justice on his neck, they who look on should bless God for these guarantees of legitimate and useful civilisation. That there is a perdition for the Iscariots of the world is a source of profoundest satisfaction to those who love righteousness. Were Iscariot to be free of heaven, there would be no heaven to long for. The curse is personified as a beast of prey-" therefore hath the curse devoured the earth." Sometimes it is personified

under the image of fire, for fire devours, swallows up, eats up, and leaves nothing undigested. Oh that fierce tongue of fire! "It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God."

"The new wine mourneth, the vine languisheth, all the merryhearted do sigh" (ver. 7).

It is no good having vineyards now, for the vines themselves are rotten, and there is no wine for the lips that burn for it.

"The mirth of tabrets [or tambourines] ceaseth, the noise of them that rejoice endeth, the joy of the harp ceaseth. They shall not drink wine with a song; strong drink shall be bitter to them that drink it" (vers. 8, 9).

When a man's own palate turns against him, and he has lived for nothing but the palate, he has a sorry world to live in. So long as he could gorge himself at the glutton's table he was as happy as a beast could be, but now he cannot eat, and he never could pray, so what becomes of him?

"There is a crying for wine in the streets; all joy is darkened, the mirth of the land is gone" (ver. 11).

A beautiful image is suggested by the expression "joy is darkened." The literal rendering is, "it is eventide with joy,”— that is to say, the shadows are gathering, cold twilight is setting in upon joy, and joy itself presently will throw away its harp and its song, and will lie down to die.

Thus the reading of this chapter is like being out in a tremendous thunderstorm. The wheel of judgment flies through all these verses. How it thunders! How it grinds! How it crushes! How pitiless is its action! When could the Lord ever conclude even a speech of judgment without a word of gospel? It is difficult for God to give way to judgment exclusively. It is his strange work-mercy is his delight. So from the thirteenth verse the gospel begins :

"When thus it shall be in the midst of the land among the people, there shall be as the shaking of an olive tree, and as the gleaning grapes when the vintage is done” (ver. 13).

There shall be something left that God can work upon. If there be one little wheat-head left, he will plant it, and have a harvest out of that by-and-by; if there is one little green sprout on all the fallen tree, he will water it, and watch it, and care for

it, and presently it shall grow and bear fruit, and the birds shall sing in its branches. If when God has crushed a man by taking from him his first-born and his last-born, and stabbing his favourite scheme with sharp spears so that it perish in the sight of men, yet if there be left in that suffering one so much as a feeble sigh-if he can sigh for God, if he can say, Woe is me! God pity me! the Lord will work upon that, and out of it there will come a new man, crowned like a king, enriched and adorned with riches spiritual. A germ is left in the worst of us. If we are even reading one word of the Bible, there is something to begin with. If we have not quenched the Spirit, the Spirit may conquer yet. That God's Book is in our hands, and that we are in God's house, by will, by consent, is proof that even yet the prodigal may return, the farthest wanderer may come home. If this is not the spirit of the gospel, then there is no gospel. The evangelical doctrine is a doctrine of infinite hopefulness. When men profess to be evangelical, and yet are stern, then they belie their profession by their spirit: they have evangelical words, not evangelical solicitudes; they have an evangelical framework, but there is no heart evangelical throbbing within the ghastly skeleton. The evangelical spirit goes out, and says, If there is a sigh in you, one tear, one sign of penitence, God has not given you up work upon it; point to that as the beginning of new riches and infinite treasures. Where is there a man who can say that he never has a religious thought, a spiritual aspiration, a keen desire for some larger vision of the kingdom of God? If we are haunted by one such pale spectre, we may take hope that even yet we may be saved. Infinite is the grace of God. Some have been sorely shaken, impoverished, overwhelmed, and it would seem as if God had been hard with them, and had well-nigh taken away the last crust from their table; but, no, there is a crust on the table, you say? Yes. That crust is a pledge that God is still in the house. Ask him to bless it, and it will become as an abundant harvest.

Chapter xxv.

CALM AFTER STORM.

E can only understand the highest, sweetest meaning

WE

of this chapter in proportion as we enter into the spirit of the one which precedes it. That chapter we have read and studied. It is full of clouds, and darkness, and judgment. The Lord himself seems to have yielded to the spirit of contempt, and to have held in scorn even the work of his own fingers. The sarcasm of the Lord is intolerable. His laugh, who can stand? It is a laugh of judgment; it comes after certain moral experiments, and endeavours, and issues; it is not frivolity, it is a singular aspect of judgment, the only aspect which certain men in certain moods can understand; for they have withstood mercy, and compassion, and tears, and they have seen God himself in an attitude of supplication, in the posture of a suppliant and a beggar, and they have turned him from their heart-door. The only thing which he can now do is to laugh at their calamity, and mock when their fear cometh. We have walked through the dark valley of the preceding chapter, and now we come to a calm after a storm, to a sweet and beauteous song, to an eventide that carries the burden of its waning light easily, and that shines upon us with mellowest, most comforting sympathy. Who could claim such a God as a refuge? An hour or two ago he thundered in the heavens as Almightiness alone can thunder; nothing was sacred to him that defied him by its bulk and power and pride; he turned the earth upside down and laughed at its impotent endeavours at rectification. Who can flee to him, and call him by all these tender names—a strength, a refuge, a shadow, a sanctuary?

The very terribleness of God is a reason for putting our trust in him. Probably this view of the divine attributes has not

always been sufficiently vivid to our spiritual consciousness. We have thought of God, and have become afraid; whereas when we hear him thundering, and see him scattering his arrows of lightning round about him, and behold him pouring contempt upon the mighty who have defied him, we should say, See! God is love. What does he strike? No little child, no patient woman, no broken heart, no face that is steeped in tears of contrition. On what does his fist fall? On arrogance, on haughtiness, on self-conceit, on self-completeness. He turns the proud away with an answer of scorn to their prayer of patronage. God is only terrible to evil. That is the reason why his terribleness should be an encouragement and an allurement to souls that know their sin and plead for pardon at the Cross.

In the fourth verse we find what we may term a completing view of the divine personality and government. Say whether there is aught in poetry that streams from a fountain with this fluency:

"Thou hast been a strength to the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm, a shadow from the heat, when the blast of the terrible ones is as a storm against the wall " (ver. 4).

Here we come upon language which the heart can understand, and which the heart responds to with personal gratitude. Sometimes the Scriptures leave us. They are like a great bird with infinite wings, flying away to the centres of light and the origin of glory, and we cannot follow them in their imperial infinite sweep; then they come down to us and flutter near our hearts, and speak or sing to us in words and tones we can comprehend. This verse is an instance in point. Every man who has had large experience of life can annotate this verse for himself; he needs no critic, no preacher, no orator, to help him into the innermost shrine and heart of this holy place. Each of us can repeat this verse as a part of his own biography: each can say, Thou hast been a strength to me when I was poor; I never knew my poverty when thou didst break the bread; we always thought it more than enough because the blessing so enlarged the morsel: thou hast been a strength to me in my need and in my distress; when my father and my mother forsook me thou didst take me up; thou didst turn my tears into jewellery,