Part 10

it was reasonable to expect that it should also bear fruit, since the fruit of the fig-tree always precedes the leaf. Our Lord might have expected to find some of the small green figs which there often come to perfection in April or May. * But the tree was barren. It had not even remaining any of the large purple fruit which hangs on till the next season. It was barren now; it had been barren the year before. And so the Lord pronounced its condemnation. "Let no fruit grow on thee henceforth forever."

* NOTE.—Thomson, author of "The Land and the Book" (which ought to be in every Sunday-school library as a book of reference), speaks of eating the little sweet green figs as early as April.

Is there a possibility that one of us who have followed the Church services all through this holy season may be, after all, like this fig-tree? It is possible that we may be like the empty vine described by the prophet—empty because it brought forth fruit only to itself? (Hos. x. 1.) Oh, let us look to it, lest our Lord, seeking for fruit and finding none, may pronounce against us also the awful sentence, "No fruit grow on thee henceforth forever."

_TUESDAY BEFORE EASTER._

_THE HOUSE LEFT DESOLATE._

OUR Lord had visited the temple for the last time. He had silenced all his enemies; He had frustrated all their deep-laid plans to entangle Him in His own words. He had poured out on the Scribes and Pharisees those terrible denunciations which filled up the cup of their spite and fury to overflowing. Then looking about Him, doubtless, at the magnificent building, and the still great and prosperous city with its crowded inhabitants, His heart of love and pity overflowed once more, as it had done at the time of His triumphal entry. "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets and stonest them that are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not." And then came the saddest words of all. "Behold, your house is left unto you, desolate."

Our Lord never entered the temple again. It stood in its majesty for many a year, untouched by any outward enemy, throwing back the sunbeams, a "pile of gold and snow." Yet was it as surely a ruin as when the fire that devoured it was quenched in the blood of priests and worshippers. For the Lord had departed and all the splendor was but an empty show. The house was left, but it was desolate.

Probably none of those who crowded to hear the Lord's last words, realized that they were the last. He had been going in and out among them for three years. They had become, as it were, used to seeing His miracles and hearing His teachings, and there seemed no special reason why these miracles and teachings should not go on indefinitely. Probably very few, except His bitterest enemies, had made up their minds absolutely to reject Him. There was time enough, they thought.

But they were awfully mistaken. There was no more time. The clock had struck, though they had not heard it. The Lord, whom they had pretended to seek, had come to His temple, but the rulers there would have none of Him. And so they were left to themselves, to fill up the measure of their iniquities, and to be filled in turn with their own devices in a manner more awful than the world has ever seen.

To every man and woman on earth there is coming a last time—a last Lent, a last Easter, a last Sunday, a last chance. "God had appointed a day." We know not what day, nor when it is to come, but being appointed, it is constantly drawing nearer and nearer. And when once the Master of the house has risen, and has shut to the door, it will not be opened again. God grant that at that awful time, none of us who have walked on together through this holy season, may be left outside that door to knock in vain!

_WEDNESDAY BEFORE EASTER._

_THE LOST OPPORTUNITIES._

WE may think of this day with tender interest as our Lord's last quiet day upon earth. He seems to have spent it in retirement with His disciples, probably among the groves of that Mount which He loved so well; not yet invaded by the foot of treachery and violence, but lying sweet and calm and beautiful with the tender tints of spring. Here He told His friends of the terrible fate which was even then threatening that temple, to whose beauty and strength they had so lately directed His attention, and of that still more awful event, also inevitable, but the date whereof was still hidden in the councils of God. At this time, too, He spoke the parables of the wise and foolish virgins, and of the talents, and gave the description of the last Judgment contained in the same chapter.

It is on one feature of the narration in this chapter that I would dwell for a few minutes. The most startling and significant thing about them all has always seemed to me this: that in every case the persons condemned were so condemned not for what they did, but for what they did not do. The foolish virgins made no bad use of their lamps. They did not willfully waste their oil for their own pleasure. They simply neglected to provide it when they might have done so. When the time came that the lamps were needed they hastened to supply the deficiency, but it was then too late. They that were ready had gone in to the marriage, and the door was shut.

So it was with the slothful servant with his one talent. He made no ill use of it. We do not hear that he drank or gambled. He was slothful—perhaps cowardly as well. So he hid his Lord's money, and was judged accordingly. The man with one talent is perhaps specially exposed to this temptation. He can do but little in comparison to others, and so he will do nothing. But if his sentence was so severe, what shall be that of him who, having ten talents given him to serve his master withal, lets them lie unimproved, or uses them for his own and others' destruction.

Again, in the story of judgment, with which the chapter concludes, those who were sent away to the place prepared, not for them, but for the devil and his angels, were condemned, not because they had ill-treated or robbed any one, but because having the opportunity to succor the Lord in the persons of His poor, they had not done so.

Do not these stories contain an awful warning? How many say, if not openly, yet to themselves, "At least, if I do no good, I do no great harm." But, let us not be deceived. The not doing good is of itself a sin, and as a sin it will surely be visited.

_THURSDAY BEFORE EASTER._

_THE TRAITOR._

"WHEN evening was come, He sat down with the twelve" to the meal already prepared by the two disciples whom He had sent in the morning for that purpose. We cannot tell what were the thoughts that then occupied His mind, any further than the Holy Spirit had revealed them to us, but, so far, we without presumption humbly try to enter into them. He knew, though His disciples did not, that his enemies were awake, and already planning His destruction, and that one of His chosen companions, who was breaking bread with Him, would betray Him into their hands. He saw all the weakness and folly of those companions, even then disputing who should be greatest; He foresaw their cowardly desertion and flight. His soul was sorrowful, even unto death; yet we hear no words of impatience; only solemn warnings and tender counsels.

There was one of the number to whom every look should have been a reproach, every word a sting. He had sold his Lord already, and was only biding his time to consummate the bargain; yet he could sit there at the board, could take the bread from that Master's own hand, could even ask with the others, "Is it I?"

Did his conscience even then torment him? Probably not. He had hardened it too long. Says a well-known writer: "Remorse may disturb the slumber of a man who is dabbling with his first experiences of wrong; and when the pleasure has been tasted and is gone, and nothing is left of the crime but the ruin it has wrought, then, too, the furies take their seats upon the midnight pillow. But the meridian of evil is for the most part left unvexed, and when a man has chosen his road he is left alone to follow it to the end." Judas had chosen his road. He had sold his Master for a paltry sum of money, and probably pleased himself with the thoughts of farther advantages which would be certain to follow such a service to the rulers. The world had hidden all else from his eyes, and if he now and then had a misgiving, he doubtless stifled it with the thought that the Master who had so often escaped the hands of his enemies would easily do so again. He would have the money and the credit, and there would be no great harm done after all.

Is there any danger now, that Judas may be found at the Lord's table? Is there any danger that we may betray our Master for gold, for fashion, or for worldly advantage? Do we ever, for the sake of being thought liberal or intellectual, side with His open or covert enemies?

Let us beware! It was an awful distinction which our merciful and compassionate Lord gave to Judas. There was pardon for those who forsook Him for fear, for Peter who denied, for Paul who persecuted. It was only Judas who sold Him, of whom it was said, "It were better for that man that he had never been born!"

_GOOD FRIDAY._

_THE CROSS._

THERE seems to be no room on this day for human words. What we have to do is to follow our suffering Lord step by step through the events of the day; to see Him led from the high priest to Pilate, from Pilate to Herod, and back to Pilate again; to see the cowardly Roman governor,

## acting against his own sense of law and justice for fear of the mob,

seeking to save the innocent by a compromise, which failed, as such compromises always do, and at last giving way and delivering the victim into the hands of his enemies, to find, after all, that he had gained nothing but infamy by the surrender of honor and conscience. Let us, with the daughters of Jerusalem, follow the sad procession to Calvary. Let us see the Saviour of the world fainting under His burden, yet forgetting His own pain to address to the wailing women a word of recognition and warning. Let us see Him refusing the narcotic provided by merciful hands to deaden the agonies of the sufferers.

Let us, with His mother and the other faithful women, watch by His cross to the end. Surely we can do this for Him who has done so much for us.

And as we keep our sorrowful yet joyful watch, let us always remember that we have our part in that awful sacrifice; that "our" sins made a part of that crushing burden; that our sins sharpened the nails and embittered the cup. Let us say again and again, as we watch the shadow darkening on the Saviour's brow, that shadow which never anywhere falls but once, "He died for me!"

He died for you, oh timid, doubting, desponding soul. How, then, can you distrust your Father's love, who suffered His well-beloved Son to bear all this for your sake? He died for you, oh weak and weary sufferer, and He who so bore His own cross will help you to bear yours. Oh, thoughtless or careless sinner, or hardened man of the world; oh, blasphemer or denier! He died for you that you might live for Him. Let it not be in vain that He has so died!

_EASTER EVEN._

_THE LAST SABBATH._

THE agony was over at last. Joseph and Nicodemus, openly taking sides with the disciples of Jesus in this their darkest hour, had begged the Lord's body, and with all the tenderness and reverence which the time admitted, had laid it safely away in the garden tomb. The faithful women who had watched by the cross saw where the body of their Lord was laid, and sadly returned home. There was no more that they could do. Yes, one thing more. They prepared spices and ointments, and then, anxious as they were to complete the last service they could show, they rested the Sabbath day according to the commandment. If they could do no more, they could obey that law which He Himself had said should not pass away till all was fulfilled.

They rested the Sabbath day. A sorrowful day, no doubt, yet not perhaps without its gleams of comfort. He whom they trusted was to redeem Israel was gone, dead by a shameful and cruel death. After all His faithful teaching for three years among them, after all His miracles, after that triumphal entry of only a week before, He was dead. And yet, as they who had followed Him so faithfully, talked over the events of their Lord's life, and recalled His words, it seems as if they must have remembered those mysterious words of His about rising again. How many had He not recalled from death? Had He not brought Lazarus back after he had been dead four days? At all events, He was now out of reach of His enemies. Their malice could not harm Him now, and they should see Him again at that resurrection of the just which He had taught them to expect.

They rested the Sabbath day according to the commandment. It was, though they did not know it then, the last Sabbath under the old law. Henceforth, as long as the world stood, the first instead of the last day of the week was to be the "day of rest and gladness" to all Christian hearts and homes. It was to be pre-eminently the Lord's day—Sunday, we may well call it, since on that day the Sun of Righteousness rose on His Church to set no more. The disciples and the women did not know that it was the last, but they kept it in obedience. That at least was in their power.

It may be that some one who reads these pages is bowed down with trouble from within or without; perplexed with doubt, burdened with a sense of unworthiness, and hesitating whether or not to go to the Easter feast. To such an one let me say, dear friend, you can always obey. The King Himself invites you to the feast; and a royal invitation is a command. Draw near with faith, and take what your King offers you out of loyalty to His will. Believe me, He will himself give you the wedding garment which shall render you fit for His presence. And as for your burden, lay it at His feet and leave it there. Only obey, and the blessing will as surely follow as light follows the sun.

_EASTER._

_THE DAY OF THE LORD._

THIS is the day of the Lord; we will rejoice and be glad in it. It is the great day of the Church, the crowning feast of the year. Even the world rejoices on Christmas Day, though it scarcely knows why; but this is the Christian's day. To him who does not believe, it means nothing; to us, it means everything.

Our Lord has risen from the dead. Henceforth the grave has for us no terror. Our Lord has opened its fast-barred gates and let in the sunshine to every corner; and as we look into it, we see nothing to affright us. He has made it a safe resting-place; and we may commit to it the bodies of our dear ones, with the tears that love demands indeed, but in hope, because as our Lord rose they too shall rise to die, no more.

Our Lord is risen from the dead; and from henceforth the hope of a future life is no more a dream, a theory, a fond hope. To us who believe, it is a certainty beyond all doubt. Because He lives, we shall live also.

When the women and the other disciples had become assured that their Lord had really risen; when He had spoken and eaten with them, and their hands had touched and handled Him, the distress and grief of the last few days must have seemed to them like a bad dream. So will the longest, weariest life seem to the disciple who looks at it from the rest of Paradise. It was long, but the end came at last. It was hard to bear, but it is all over now. The poor, weak soul trembled at the passage, but it was safely made, and the Home is gained, from which there is no going out forevermore. It was a dark, restless night perhaps, full of sad dreams and fears, but it is past and gone now. The sun has risen, and it will never set.

Our Lord is risen from the dead! He calls us, as He did His disciples, to eat and drink with Him. Let us hasten to obey. And if we are so shut-in that we cannot go with the multitude to His holy table, let us prepare Him a place in our hearts, and rest assured that He will come and sup with us and we with Him.

_CONCLUSION._

_LOOKING BACK._

EVERY wise merchant, at the close of a busy season, looks back over his business, and reckons up his profits and losses. We, dear friends, have been passing through a season of more than usual occupation and privilege. Lent is now at an end. Let us look back and see if we have gained or lost ground in our spiritual progress during the last busy days.

We have surely gained, if we have used them as we ought. If we have laid out a plan of work or study or self-denial, and adhered to it as far as possible, our wills have been strengthened by the process. If we have taken unavoidable interruptions pleasantly, if we have borne with criticism, kind or unkind, good-naturedly, if we have been un-ostentatious in our devotions, while yielding not a jot of what we believe to be right, we have surely grown in grace. If we have laid aside light and amusing books, that we might have more time for religious reading and for Bible study, we have increased in knowledge. In short, if we have used the time as we ought, we have laid up strength and formed good habits which will help us through the entire year.

But if, through idleness or self-indulgence, we have allowed the precious hours and days to pass empty away; if our Bibles have been neglected, and our time frittered away on trifles; if we have done and given nothing for the spread of the Gospel, the advancement of the Lord's cause—then has the Lenten season been lost. If we have formed no good habits to carry us through the rest of the year, if we are ready to plunge into new frivolities, or to take up the old ones with a new zest after a few weeks of abstinence, then it is worse than lost. We might better not have had it. For every privilege misused, every means of grace unimproved, does but harden the heart and blunt the conscience.

Without wishing to be censorious, it does seem to me that a good many Christians do up their religion in Lent, so as to have little left for the rest of the year. For six weeks they are to be seen in the Sunday-school, at the missionary meeting, at the week-day service; but look for them after Easter, and you will find their places vacant. "Yes, I went to the meetings in Lent," said one; "but now that the world is going on again, there are so many claims on my time!" One could not help wondering a little what claims the world had on the time of a Christian after Easter any more than before.

But let us beware of judging our neighbors; we shall have quite enough to do in examining our own consciences and bewailing our own sinfulness, that we may come well prepared to the blessed feast of Easter. We shall all see plenty to regret in the weeks that are past. Let us see to it that the coming days—the days of our Lord's humiliation and death—are so employed as that the feast of His joyful and glorious resurrection may find us ready, in the marriage garment prescribed by Holy Scripture, to be meet partakers of that Holy Table.

Isa. liii. 1 Cor. xi. 17.

THE END.