III.

Hold it to the little ear, Children, tell me what you hear. Nothing? No, you cannot know All this human tide of woe.

Would I be a child again, Not to know another's pain? Mourn like some for childhood's hours, Gathering nought but summer's flowers?

No. I want the power to tell, Power to hear the murmuring shell, Power to catch the rising moan, Power to make its wail my own.

Learning thus to feel with pain, I shall be a child again, But a child experience taught, Child in heart--a man in thought.

Then I'll hear the echoing swell In the murmur of each shell, And with touch of friendship warm, Try to lull the raging storm.

Lulled to rest, its song shall be, Murmurs of _another_ sea-- Heavenly love shall thrill and dwell In the murmur of the shell.

* * * * *

Of that higher sea to tell, Make me, Lord, an echoing shell, That the world may hear in mine Echoes of the love divine.

*The Calf.*

"Ye shall go forth and gambol as calves of the stall."--Mal. iv. 2 (R.V.).

Malachi is known as "the last of the prophets." With him the sun of a thousand years was sinking in the west. It had its rise in the prophetical school of Samuel, its zenith in the glowing visions of Isaiah, and its setting in the earnest appeals of Malachi. But before it loses all its glory in the gathering twilight, it gives the fair promise of another and better sun. Malachi is led to write--"Unto you that fear My name shall the _Sun of righteousness_ arise with healing in His wings; and ye shall go forth and gambol as calves of the stall." He had frequently seen the young calves let loose in the morning sunshine, and as he stood and watched their happy gambols, they became a kind of illustration to him of far higher joys. They led him to think of the coming "day of the Lord," when, in the brightness of that better Sun, those that feared His name would rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory. They too would go forth like the beasts of the field and skip and play in the sunshine.

"To hail Thy rise, Thou better Sun, The gathering nations come, Joyous, as when the reapers bear The harvest treasures home."

The Bible imagery of the calf, however, has much more to tell us than this, and I propose to-day to direct your attention to three points.

I.--THE CALF AS AN IDOL.

In Exodus xxxii. we have the story of the _golden calf_. It was a solemn hour in the history of the Hebrews. Moses was up on Mount Sinai communing with God, and all the people were waiting in the plain. They had watched their leader ascend the hill and disappear within the cloud; and for well-nigh forty days they had been waiting for his return. But evidently they were waiting in vain. Day by day they had expected the cloud to lift and pass away, but there it was still lying on the rocky summit, brooding and dark as ever. They began to lose heart. They gradually grew impatient, and finally they broke out in actual rebellion. They turned to Aaron and said, "Up, make us gods which shall go before us; for as for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we wot not what is become of him."

And then follows the sad story of Israel's idolatry. Moses on the hill was receiving a new revelation. He was receiving from Jehovah the two tables of stone. And these were the first two lines inscribed upon them: "_Thou shalt have no other gods before Me_." "_Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image_." And lo! at the very moment that these words were being written, the chosen people at the foot of the hill were breaking off their golden earrings and making a molten calf. They were renouncing the worship of Jehovah and setting the worship of Egypt--the worship of the _bull_, Apis, in its place.

When Moses came down and beheld this idol, he was completely overcome. In a great outburst of grief and anger he dashed the tables out of his hand and break them beneath the mount. Israel had sinned a great sin. They were a stiff-necked and rebellious people. And the anger of the Lord was kindled against Israel, "and there fell of the people that day about three thousand men."

It is the same taproot of sin which is the cause of all our sorrows. We, too, have sinned against the Lord. We have made some kind of golden calf, and set it in the place of Jehovah. And unless we are saved from the awful consequences of our sin, we also will suffer, as those rebellious Hebrews suffered, because of the idol which we have made. This is the first lesson that we may learn from the Bible imagery of the calf. It sets before us the true nature and the terrible consequences of sin.

II.--THE CALF AS A SACRIFICE.

The stain of sin may be deep, but the power of redemption is deeper. Moses said unto Aaron, "Take thee a bull calf for a sin offering, and offer it before the Lord" (Lev. ix. 2). Not indeed that the blood of calves could take away sin.

"Not all the blood of beasts On Jewish altars slain, Could give the guilty conscience peace, Or wash away the stain."

But that was the Old Testament way of setting forth the great fact of redemption. The offering of the bull calf was a picture of the sacrifice of Jesus. For as we read in Hebrews ix. 11, "Christ having come a high priest of good things to come, not through the blood of goats and calves, but through His own blood, entered in once into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us." This is the hope and plea of every poor sinner. "The blood of Jesus, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin."

And as a sacrifice, the bull calf _could not be redeemed_. The first-born of man might be redeemed, as also the firstling of any unclean animal; but not so the firstling of an ox. It was a _clean_ animal, and its blood must be sprinkled upon the altar (Num. xviii. 17). In this way it shadowed forth the sacrifice of Christ, of whom it was said, "He saved others; Himself He cannot save." As our Divine Isaac He came to Mount Moriah, but there was no ram found there to take His place as the sacrifice. He alone was a perfect offering. He alone was clean; and therefore He alone as the Great High Priest offered Himself as the victim. He poured out His soul unto death. And it is to this Saviour that all you young people must look. "Neither is there salvation in any other: there is none other name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved." Looking unto Jesus, loving Him, and resting on Him--that is the way we enter into life. "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world."

This is the second lesson we learn from the Bible imagery of the calf. Sin is followed by sacrifice. The molten calf gives place to the calf that was slain.

III.--THE CALF AS A FEAST.

You remember the story of the Prodigal Son contained in the Gospel of Luke. In that pearl of parables we have the mention of the "_fatted calf_." This was considered a great delicacy among the Jews. Large numbers were carefully selected and fattened for the purpose. And this is what we are to understand by "calves of the stall." Even the witch of Endor had "a _fat_ calf" in her house, which she killed and dressed for King Saul (1 Sam. xxviii. 24). And Abraham ran unto the herd, and fetched "a calf _tender and good_," and prepared it for the three angels who had visited him in the plains of Mamre (Gen. xviii. 7). This was hospitality worthy of both kings and angels; and this is the kind of entertainment which is set before every returning prodigal. They feed on angels' food. They eat of the finest of the wheat. They are brought into Christ's banqueting house, and His banner over them is love.

Did ever any one sin a more grievous sin than the prodigal? Was ever any one visited with a sadder and sorer punishment? Like the silly sheep, he had strayed away into the far-off country; and there, in that distant land, he found himself in penury and rags. He would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat. But the Shepherd found the sheep. The poor wanderer came to himself in that distant land, and found his way back again to his father's house. And what was the result? His home-coming was celebrated by a feast. The father said unto the servant, "Bring hither the _fatted calf_ and kill it."

"A day of _feasting_ I ordain, Let mirth and song abound, My son was dead, and lives again, Was lost, and now is found.

Thus joy abounds in paradise, Among the hosts of heav'n, Soon as the sinner quits his sins, Repents and is forgiven."

The sin, the sacrifice, the feast. The golden calf, the slain calf, the fatted calf. The first is ours, the second is Christ's, and the third is designed for _both_. "Behold, I stand at the door and knock: if any man hear My voice and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup _with him_, and he _with Me_." Nay, Jesus Himself is both sacrifice and feast. He could turn to the Jews and say, "Whoso eateth My flesh, and drinketh My blood, hath eternal life." "I am the living bread which came down from heaven: if any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever."

We must repent of the sin, we must trust in the sacrifice, and we must feed upon the feast. Not till then shall we be fired with the hope and filled with the joy of the last of the prophets--"Unto you that fear My name, shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in His wings: and ye shall go forth and _gambol_ as calves of the stall."

*The Bat.*

"In that day a man shall cast his idols to the moles and the bats."--Isa. ii. 20.

The bat is only mentioned three times in the Bible, and it cannot be said at a first reading that the references are very flattering. They seem to justify the kind of horror which most people feel when they encounter a bat; for it is generally regarded as "a creature of such ill-omen that its very presence causes a shudder, and its approach would put to flight many a human being."

Moses speaks of it as one of the unclean animals--a creature neither to be eaten as food nor offered in sacrifice; while Isaiah describes it as a fit companion for the mole, or rather the mole-rat, which crawls away from the sunshine, and seems to love the darkness rather than the light, because its deeds are evil. Clearly the little "night-flier" has a good deal to contend with in winning for itself a place among the world's favourites. It has enough against it to crush an Atlas, not to speak of a bat; and if it rise to a position of honour after all, it does so in spite of the incubus of general dislike and loathing which the ignorance of superstition has heaped upon it. But all true bats, like all true boys, but seek to rise above any such reputation.

I.--THE JEWISH PROHIBITION.

The bat was regarded as unclean. Two reasons may be given for this--corresponding to the two classes of bats which are known to have existed in Bible lands. We have first the _insectivorous_ bats, which, both in habits and appearance, are so repugnant that no one would ever dream of regarding them as food, or as fit objects for sacrifice. They were rejected on the principle that nothing repulsive or hideous is to be eaten or offered; for this would offend the _horror naturalis_ which is so great a safeguard in human life. And indeed, if these were the only bats known to the Jews, the prohibition as thus applied would seem to be needless. But these were not the only bats. We have also the large _frugivorous_ bats which have been used as food in various parts of the world; and they may have been so used by the Jews themselves when sojourning in the land of Egypt. The Egyptian monuments show that these large fox-headed bats were not at all uncommon in the valley of the Nile; and Canon Tristram secured two fine specimens even in Central Palestine, which measured twenty and a half inches from wing to wing. Now if surrounding nations ate these bats as a common article of diet, would not this be a sufficient reason why the Jews should not be allowed to touch them? I think it would. Israel as a nation was set apart to Jehovah. They were His peculiar people. They were His chosen and purchased possession; and therefore even in their food there must be a separation in which this reference to Jehovah was expressed. They must be made to feel that even in the prohibition of the bat and other animals, the divine command had been addressed to them, "Come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord."

And yet one cannot but think that all this was rather hard on the bat. "It is said that the African negroes depict and describe _their_ evil spirits as white; and that in consequence, the negro children fly in consternation if perchance a white man comes into their territory. Yet a white man is not so very horrid an object after all, if one only dare look at him, and the same remark holds good with the bats." (J. G. Wood.) A very pretty and useful creature is the bat, and it is quite qualified to teach us many valuable lessons.

II.--WHAT A BAT IS.

How are we to describe this little puzzle? Are we to call it a bird or a beast, or is it both of these rolled into one? The possession of wings would seem to argue that it must be a bird; but then its sharp teeth and mouse-like body would as clearly prove that it must be a beast; so that the simple question whether the bat is a bird or beast is not so simple as it looks.

The common name, "_Flitter-mouse_," exhibits the same difficulty; and so also does AEsop in his amusing description of the battle of the beasts and birds. The bat, availing himself of his combination of fur and wings, did not join himself to either party. He hovered over the field of battle, and waited to see which side was going to be victorious. He was determined in the final issue to be on the side of the victors. But in this little game he was entirely unsuccessful; for when they saw the tactics of the little traitor, he was scouted by both parties, and has been compelled ever since to appear in public only at night. It is quite evident that when AEsop wrote this fable, he was not sure what to call the bat--whether to describe it as a bird because it had wings, or to place it among the beasts because it had fur. But what then is the tiny creature? A mammal, of course. A whale is not a fish because it swims in the sea, and the bat is not a bird because it flies in the air. They both suckle their young, and therefore are true mammals. Nay, Linnaeus has actually placed the bat in the highest order of the mammals--in that of the primates beside the monkey and the man. Indeed, in one essential particular it has easily excelled both. It has grown for itself a pair of wings--not a mere parachute like that of the flying squirrels or the flying fish, but a real pair of wings which enable it to laugh to scorn all the flying machines and balloons ever invented by man. How clumsy all these inventions are in comparison with a bat's wing. Four of its fingers are drawn out like the ribs of an umbrella, and then covered over with its own skin like the web of a duck's foot; and thus furnished with the necessary means of competing with the birds, it sails out like the swallow in pursuit of its prey. The remaining finger or thumb is used as a hook to suspend it from the roof or rafters where it takes up its abode. Here then is the high position to which the bat has attained. It is the only mammal that flies.

III.--WHAT THE BAT DOES.

Let no one say that it lives a useless life. It is one of the most useful animals we have. It vies with the swallow in destroying the swarms of insects that infest the atmosphere. They divide the day of twenty-four hours between them. The bat begins the work where the swallow lays it down; and ruthlessly pursues the insect prey all through the night. From dark to dawn, and sometimes far into the day, it does yeoman service in this important connection. The present writer remembers a pair of bats in Perthshire, which were found in company with the swallows even at the hour of noon. It was the month of September, and perhaps they felt they must now make haste in preparing for the winter's hibernation. For the bat is not able, like the swallow, to migrate to a warmer clime when the supply of insect food begins to fail. It must find another way of spending the long months of the winter. It must pass into a deep death-like slumber, from which it is awakened, as the flowers in spring are awakened, by the returning life of the summer. But the traces of a wise design are seen everywhere. The marks of a good and faithful Creator are found through all His works. If one creature has the power of migrating, another has the power of hibernating; and thus even in the mode of existence pursued by a bat, there is abundant evidence of the wisdom and goodness of God.

And how is the bat able to thread its way through the darkest caverns where the sharpest eyes are rendered useless? It is not blind, like Tibbie Dyster in "Alec Forbes"; and yet it might say, as she did when congratulated on her fine spinning, "I wadna spin sae weel gin it warna that the Almichty pat some sicht into the pints o' my fingers 'cause there was nane left i' my een." The bat has indeed a marvellous power of sight in "the pints o' its fingers." Prof. Mivart can only compare the sensitiveness of its _touch_ to a state of inflammation; and it is this extreme sensibility that enables them to direct their flight in these dark caverns. This is another coign of vantage reached by the bat. It is the only mammal that possesses wings, and these wings, in turn, are the very perfection of the delicate sense of touch.

But we go back to the point from which we started, and say that, however useful and wonderful the bat may be, it is not to be eaten as food or offered in sacrifice. It is _unclean_. This, indeed, is a principle which is full of gospel teaching. A thing may be good and useful in its own place, and yet be quite unfit as an offering when we appear before God. Good thoughts, kind words, and brave deeds are all needed. They are all necessary for the adornment of our Christian character; but for the forgiveness of our sins, and the reception of "so great salvation," there is no sacrifice which can be mentioned save one: "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world." To Jesus then must every boy and girl look, saying in the language of the hymn--

"Just as I am, _without one plea_, _But that Thy blood was shed for me,_ And that Thou bid'st me come to Thee, O Lamb of God, I come."

*The Eagle.*

"Doth the eagle mount up at thy command, and make her nest on high?"--Job xxxix. 27.

Jehovah is answering Job out of the whirlwind. He brings before him a grand panorama of external nature--the earth and sea, snow and hail, the Pleiades and the lightning--the wild goat, the wild ass, the ostrich, the hawk, and the eagle; and as the glorious pageant defiles before his eyes, he forces him to face and answer the question: Shall mortal man be more just than God? Shall he that contendeth with the Almighty instruct Him? He that reproveth God, let him answer. And Job's answer is all that could be desired: "Behold, I am vile: what shall I answer Thee? I will lay mine hand upon my mouth." The greatness of God in nature has taught man his own utter insignificance.

Doth the eagle mount up at _thy_ command? No. All these pictures point man to God. They combine to illustrate the mind and thought of Him who formed them and cares for them. So that the conclusion of Ruskin is more than justified that the universe is not a mirror that reflects to proud self-love her own intelligence. It is a mirror that reflects to the devout soul the attributes of God.

I.--THE ROCK-DWELLING HABITS OF THE EAGLE.

"She dwelleth and abideth on the rock, upon the crag of the rock and the strong place" (ver. 28). It is to this that Obadiah refers when he takes up his parable against the Edomites. They too were rock-dwellers, who had made for themselves houses and founded cities in the rocky fastnesses of Mount Seir. But they are reminded that the impregnable and inaccessible heights to which they have resorted will be no defence against Jehovah: "Though thou exalt thyself as the eagle, and though thou set thy nest among the stars, thence will I bring thee down, saith the Lord." It is even added that Edom would become utterly desolate: "As thou hast done, it shall be done unto thee, ... and there shall not be any remaining of the house of Esau." And if the testimony of modern travellers may be accepted, the desolation is mournful enough. In 1848 Miss Harriet Martineau visited Petra, the chief of these rock-cities, and describes it as follows: "Nowhere else is there desolation like that of Petra, where these rock doorways stand wide--still fit for the habitation of a multitude, but all empty and silent except for the multiplied echo of the cry of the eagle, or the bleat of the kid. No; these excavations never were all tombs. In the morning the sons of Esau came out in the first sunshine to worship at their doors, before going forth, proud as their neighbour eagles, to the chase; and at night the yellow fires lighted up from within, tier above tier, the face of the precipice" ("Eastern Life," vol. iii. 5).

The Edomite, alas, is gone, though the eagle is still left, and she fixes her habitation on the dizzy crag.

II.--THE ACUTENESS OF THE EAGLE'S SIGHT.

"From thence she seeketh the prey, and her eyes behold afar off" (ver. 29). The eye of a bird is a marvellous structure. It is a telescope and microscope combined. It has the power of compressing the lens to adapt it to varying distances; and is larger in proportion than the eye of quadrupeds. The kestrel hawk, for instance, feeds on the common field mouse; but this tiny creature is so like the colour of the soil, that a human eye could scarcely detect it at the distance of a few yards. The kestrel, however, has no such difficulty. Her telescopic eye sees it from the sky overhead, and like a bolt from the blue, she swoops down upon the helpless prey. No mistake is made as she nears the ground. Swiftly and almost instantaneously the telescope is compressed into the microscope, and the daring freebooter could pick up a pin.

The same power is possessed by the Griffon vulture or "eagle" of Holy Scripture. "_Her eyes behold afar off_." A dozen eagles may be soaring upwards in the sunlight, until they become mere specks against the blue of heaven, but they are carefully watching each other in their wheeling circles, and diligently scanning the desert below in the hope of discovering some prey. The moment the object is sighted, and even one bird has made a swoop downwards, the movement is detected by the one nearest, which immediately follows; while the second is followed by a third, and the third by a fourth, until in a few minutes, "wheresoever the carcase is, there will the eagles be gathered together." Their vast power of wing and acuteness of sight have led them to the prey.

And the lesson is not far to seek. In the Carlyle use of the word it emphasises the need of being able to _see_. "To the poet, as to every other, we say first of all, _see_. If you cannot do that, it is of no use stringing rhymes together and calling yourself a poet, there is no hope for you." And in religion it is the pure in heart that see God. If the inner eye be single, the whole body shall be full of light. The aged _seer_ on Patmos saw into the heaven of heavens. Like Paul, he heard words not lawful to be uttered; and thus in the symbolism of the Christian Church, he is known as the New Testament _eagle_. He was the one who "saw more and heard more, but spake less than all the other disciples." But all the saints of God may soar and _see_ in some measure as he did--

"On eagles' wings, they mount, they soar, Their wings are faith and love, Till past the cloudy regions here They rise to heaven above."

III.--THE EAGLE AND HER YOUNG.

"Her young ones also suck up blood, and where the slain are, there is she" (ver. 30).

The eagle is one of the most rapacious of birds, and her terrible instincts are transmitted to her young, which "_suck up blood_." This is heredity in its most awful form, and is well fitted to shadow forth the grim heritage of woe which is handed down to _their_ children by the drunkard, the libertine, and the thief. But in any form the thought is a solemn one, forcing even the Psalmist to wail, "Behold, I was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me." The fountain of the life is polluted, as well as the streams--"Her young ones also suck up blood."

But this is not the only way in which the eagle influences her young. Allusion is frequently made to the way in which she supports them in their first essays at flight. When the tired fledgeling begins to flutter downwards, she is said to fly beneath it, and present her back and wings for its support. And this becomes a beautiful illustration to the sacred writers of the paternal care of Jehovah over Israel: "As an eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them, beareth them on her wings: so the Lord alone did lead them, and there was no strange god with them" (Deut. xxxii. 12). "I bare you on eagles' wings, and brought you unto Myself" (Exod. xix. 4).

Let ours be the holy ambition to be worthy of that care. Let us try, like the young eagles, to soar and _see_ for ourselves. Let us gaze upon the Sun of righteousness and rejoice in the fulness of His light, remembering the promise, that "they who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength: they shall mount up with wings as eagles: they shall run and not be weary, and they shall walk and not faint."

"What is that, mother? The eagle, boy! Proudly careering his course with joy. Firm on his own mountain-vigour relying, Breasting the dark storm, the red bolt defying: His wing on the wind, and his eye on the sun: He swerves not a hair, but bears onward, right on. Boy, may the eagle's flight ever be thine, Onward and upward, true to the line." --G. W. DOANE.

*The Lion.*

"He went down also and slew a lion in the midst of a pit in time of snow."--2 Sam. xxiii. 20.

This text treats of the way in which lions were hunted in Bible lands before the introduction of firearms. A deep pit was dug in the woods, and carefully covered over with withered leaves, and when the monarch of the forest came out in search of his prey and stumbled into the trap, he was easily secured by the wily hunters, or forthwith despatched with their long-pointed spears. Benaiah, however, did a more valiant deed than this. He went down single-handed to the bottom of the pit and slew the lion in the depth of winter. Evidently he was one of those muscular giants whom all young Britons will delight to honour--a very Samson in sheer herculean valour, a brave and dauntless warrior, who was well worthy of a place among King David's mighty men.

David himself, as a young shepherd, had gone after a lion and a bear, and rescued a lamb out of their teeth. And Samson, when going down to the vineyards of Timnath, had also slain a young lion which came out and roared against him. But both of these encounters had taken place in the open, where there was a fair field and no favour; whereas Benaiah met his antagonist in the most dangerous circumstances--in the middle of winter, when the lion was ravenous with hunger, and at the bottom of a lion-trap, where there was no possibility of escape. Clearly this man was a hero who would neither flinch nor fear: "He slew a lion in the midst of a pit in time of snow."

*Brave and fearless*--that is the lesson which is written large for all healthy and noble-minded boys, and it is taught by the character of the lion, no less than by the courage of the lion-slayer. There are few books in the Bible that do not contain some reference to this majestic animal, and it is always introduced as an emblem of strength and force, whether used for a good purpose or abused for a bad one. Jesus Himself is spoken of as the Lion of the tribe of Judah, and our adversary the devil is described by Peter as a roaring lion walking about and seeking whom he may devour.

I.--THE MAIN CHARACTERISTICS OF THE LION.

(1.) It is the incarnation of *strength*. Size for size, it is one of the strongest of beasts. It can kill a man or an antelope with one blow of its terrible paw; and so powerful are the muscles of the neck, that it has been known to carry away in its mouth an ordinary ox. Well may its name signify in the Arabic language "the strong one."

(2.) It is also celebrated for *courage*. A lioness is simply the most terrible animal in existence when called upon to defend her cubs. We all know how a hen, when concerned about her chicks, will beat off both the fox and the hawk by the reckless fury of her attack. And it may be imagined what the fury of a lioness will be when she has to fight for her young ones. She cares little for the number of her foes or the nature of their weapons.

(3.) Another marked feature is that "in the dark there is no animal so *invisible* as the lion. Almost every hunter has told a similar story of the lion's approach at night, of the terror displayed by the dogs and cattle as he drew near, and of the utter inability to see him, though he was so close that they could hear his breathing."

(4.) The main characteristic, however, is the lion's *roar*. This is said to be truly awful. Gordon Gumming speaks of it as being "extremely grand and peculiarly striking. He startles the forest with loud, deep-toned, solemn roars, repeated five or six times in quick succession, each increasing in loudness to the third or fourth, when his voice dies away in five or six low, muffled sounds, very much resembling distant thunder." It is to this Amos refers when he speaks of his own prophetic call: "The lion hath roared: who will not fear? The Lord God hath spoken: who can but prophesy?"

II.--TWO LESSONS FROM THE LION.

(1.) _It is glorious to have a lion's strength, but it is inglorious to use it like a lion_. When this is not attended to, heroism degenerates into big-boned animalism, and courage into selfishness and ferocity. What might have been the glory of our expanding manhood and a tower of defence to the weak and defenceless becomes the Titanian arrogance of the bully and the senseless boast of the braggart. This is to imitate the lion in a bad sense, and "I'd rather be a dog and bay the moon than such a Roman." This is to walk in the footsteps of those Assyrian monarchs who took the lion as their favourite emblem, and counted it their greatest glory to lash the nations in their fury. But all this is selling oneself to do wickedness in the sight of the Lord, and becoming willing captives to him who walketh about as a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour.

(2.) _It is glorious to have a lion's strength, if the strength be the measure of our gentleness_. It is in this sense that Jesus is the Lion of the tribe of Judah. He conquers by stooping. His other name is the Lamb.

You remember how beautifully this is illustrated in AEsop's Fables. A lion asleep in the wood one day was awakened by a little field-mouse, and quick as lightning he laid his terrible paw on the tiny intruder, and forthwith would have sentenced it to death. But the trembling captive implored him to show mercy, and the great beast was softened, and allowed it to escape. And that gentleness was twice blessed--it blessed him that received and him that gave. A few days after this the same lion was caught in a strong net which the hunters had set for him, and struggle as he might, he could not set himself free. But the little field-mouse heard his terrible voice, and came to the rescue. Patiently, thread by thread, it gnawed through the stout rope, and the monarch of the forest was free. And no doubt, as he stood and shook his bushy mane before plunging into the depths of the forest, he thought within himself, saying, "My former gentleness hath made me great."

Yes, "he that is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city." Even a lion may be tamed. Even a lion may become a lamb; and it is glorious to have a lion's strength when it is tempered and tamed into gentleness.

*The Cock-crowing.*

"And one shall rise up at the voice of the bird."--Eccles. xii. 4.

Youth and age are strangely blended in this chapter. With a pathetic reference to old age, the young heart is called upon to remember its Creator in the days of its youth. The days of youth are the choice--the choosing days. They are full of temptation, but they are also blessed with many great advantages; and no better season could be mentioned for resisting the one and improving the other than the moulding season of what the paraphrase calls "life's gay morn." Old age, like a sick-bed, has enough to do with itself. There are many discomforts that beset the path of the aged. For one thing, they cannot sleep so soundly as young people do. "_They rise up at the voice of the bird_." The first twitter of the swallow under the eaves, or the first crowing of the cock, is quite sufficient to break their night's repose, for their light and fitful slumbers are very easily disturbed. And old age is soon followed by death. The silver cord is loosed, and the golden bowl is broken; the pitcher is broken at the fountain, and the wheel broken at the cistern. And the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the spirit returns unto God who gave it. How foolish then to neglect religion until a time of decay like that! It is worse than foolish: it is suicidal. The whole life ought to be given to God, and not the mere dregs of the cup. "Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them."

"Deep on thy soul, before its powers Are yet by vice enslaved, Be thy Creator's glorious name And character engraved."

I.--THE COCK-CROWING AS A DIVISION OF THE NIGHT.

We are so accustomed nowadays to clocks and watches, that the ancient difficulty of marking the time may never have occurred to us. We listen to our time-pieces striking the hours and think no more about it. But the Jew had no such time-piece. He had no other way of knowing the hour than by listening to the voices of nature. The starry heavens stretched above him like a great clock, and he could read its face every night. The clear ringing voice of chanticleer was also heard, reminding him of the advent of the dawn. And listening to these and such like voices, and dividing the night by means of them, he was able in a rough and general way to tell the advance of the hours. He made the night to consist of four watches--"the even" from sunset to about nine o'clock, "midnight" from nine to twelve, "cock-crowing" from twelve to three, and "morning" from three to sunrise (see Mark xiii. 35).

The Rabbis used to say that David, the sweet singer of Israel, had a harp hung over his bed, which sounded at midnight of its own accord, and woke the king to prayer. And the children may remember that our own King Alfred is reported to have used graduated candles to measure the hours of the night. But until the advent of the pendulum, the accurate measurement of time was impossible. The face of the sky or the crowing of the cock could not give an exact chronometry.

Nevertheless it had one clear advantage. It kept man in touch with nature. It made him listen reverently to the voices of the night. And that was an education which we can ill afford to disregard. We are not made richer by its loss. We may only have lost our reverence for the sake of our mathematics. Influenced by it, the pious Jew responded to every voice of nature by uttering a blessing on the divine name. Even when the crow of the cock fell on his ear he was instructed to say, "Blessed is He who hath given wisdom to the bird." If our modern chronometry has abolished that, perhaps we have paid too dear for our clocks and watches. To have time-pieces that go to the minute is a great deal; but to hear voices that keep us in touch with God is a great deal more. "Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth." Rise up and pray at "_the voice of the bird_." We are even told that God giveth _songs_ in the night (Job xxxv. 10).

"They err who say that music dwells Alone within the halls of light; In anthems loud it also swells Within the temple of the night.

The happy birds that soar and sing May all be mute when day is done, The hum of insects on the wing May sink to silence with the sun.

But when the sounds of toil are o'er, And silence reigns beneath the stars, A murmur runs along the shore, Where ocean smites his sandy bars.

Its echo floats upon the wind, Beneath the moonbeam's mystic light, And stealing o'er the listening mind, Produces music in the night.

While far among the stars, as runs The legend through a thousand years, Amid the rolling of the suns Is heard the _music of the spheres_.

The roll of ocean and of star Dispensing music through the night; The one behind its sandy bar, The other in the realms of light.

But both to teach the human breast That He who guides the star and wave Can also breathe a psalm of rest Around the portal of the grave.

The night of grief, of sin, of death, Is not impervious to His power; It feels the influence of His breath, Like springtime come to woo the flower.

It melts in music o'er the soul, For grief has caught the glorious light, And rolling as the billows roll, _His_ songs are heard within the night."

II.--THE COCK-CROWING AND THE FALL OF PETER.

"Verily I say unto thee, Before the COCK crow _twice_, thou shalt deny Me thrice" (Mark xiv. 30). But why twice? There is no mention of this detail in the other three gospels. No; but Mark got his information from Peter himself. The pain of the degradation had sunk so deeply into Peter's soul that he had no difficulty in recalling each separate

## particular. His self-confidence had been so great that he would _not_

deny his Lord, and his subsequent profanity had been so awful after he had once entered on the downward course, that not one warning was sufficient to show him his danger, but a warning repeated and repeated again, before he was rudely awakened from the terrible stupor of his sin. The first crowing of the cock at midnight, and the second crowing-time about three o'clock, were both alike needed to arouse and humble him in the dust; and thus with painful accuracy he was able to recall the very words of the Master, "Before the cock crow _twice_, thou shalt deny Me thrice."

On the other hand, his self-confidence was a measure of his sincerity. Matthew Henry has well said, that Judas said nothing when Christ told _him_ he would betray Him. There was no protesting on his part. "He sinned by contrivance, Peter by surprise: he devised the wickedness, Peter was overtaken in this fault." In the language of "Baxter's Second Innings," "It was a _swift_ that bowled out Peter, the night the cock crowed." And the same author adds, "The best of boys are sometimes taken by swifts." But, swift or slow, it was clearly Peter's duty not to wait even for the first crowing of the cock, before he laid to heart the solemn warning of the Master. It would have been his wisdom to say, "Lord, Thou knowest my nature better than I do; and if Satan desires to have me, that he may sift me as wheat, take Thou charge of my life, lead me not into temptation, but deliver me from evil." That would have been Peter's wisdom and safety. But this he didn't do. He planted his feet on the shifting sand of his own self-confidence, and fell into the awful quagmire of denying his Lord. He would not believe the pointed warning of his Master, and therefore he was left to start up at the voice of the bird, and to go out and weep bitterly. The cock-crowing may come to one man as the summons to praise and prayer; but it comes to another as the very trump of God, calling him to penitence or--judgment.

III.--THE COCK-CROWING AND CHRIST'S SECOND COMING.

"Watch ye therefore: for ye know not when the master of the house cometh, at even, or at midnight, or at the cock-crowing, or in the morning" (Mark xiii. 35). There is here a large element of uncertainty. Not the uncertainty of the event, for the second coming of Jesus is one of the things that cannot be shaken, but the uncertainty of the _time_. "Of that day or that hour knoweth no man, not even the angels in heaven, neither the Son, but the Father." The time of His coming has not been revealed, to the end that we should be always ready.

And yet, in that early age, the second advent was believed to be nigh at hand. Jesus spake of it as "_a little while_." "Behold, I come _quickly_, and My reward is with Me, to give every man according as his work shall be." And James, the Lord's brother, wrote, "Be patient, therefore, brethren, unto the coming of the Lord, for the coming of the Lord draweth nigh." If the little while has now stretched out into centuries, and the crowing of the cock has not yet been heard, it is not because the Saviour has forgotten His promise, but because the godlessness of men and the worldliness of the Church have raised up innumerable obstacles in His way. Oh, if men would but repent and turn again to Him, those times of refreshing would not be long delayed. God would send Jesus, whom the heavens must receive until the times of restoration of all things (Acts iii. 19-21, R.V.).

What a coming that will be to all those who love His appearing! At midnight, or at the cock-crowing, the cry will be heard, "Behold, the Bridegroom cometh, go ye out to meet Him." And they who are ready will rise up at "the voice of the bird," and go in with Him to the marriage supper of the Lamb. But the foolish virgins will be shut outside. They too will rise up at the voice of the bird; but for them, alas! it will be no "bird of the _dawn_." Like Judas, they will go out into the darkness--a darkness that has no morning; and there will be the weeping and the woe.

But that day, or rather that night, has not yet arrived. It has not yet come for you young people. With you it is still the time of _choosing_; and if you choose Jesus, if you remember your Creator in the days of your youth, that evil day will never come at all. The cock-crowing will still be to you the trump of God; but it will call you to happiness and not to misery. It will proclaim to you the advent of the eternal dawn; and you will rise up at the voice of the bird to exclaim, "Even so, come, Lord Jesus."

*Peace.*

"Then had thy peace been as a river."--Isa. xlviii. 18.

I sat alone in the pinewood, And mused with the falling leaves; And the Autumn breath like a requiem Hymned low for the garnered sheaves.

And the pensiveness of the Autumn, Like the ocean rocked to rest, Found a fitting shell-like murmur In the heavings of my breast.

For a something came from the stillness, It had touched me oft before, Sometimes in the hush of pinewood, Sometimes on the lonely shore.

It came and it touched my being, Laid its finger on my brain, And there alone in the pinewood I could _pray_ as a child again.

It was not the spell of memory Cast around me its soothing power, Nor the magic of thought that held me Entranced in that silent hour.

The rarest and deepest impressions Come from fingers, but not our own, From music unbarred and unmeasured, From language unuttered, unknown.

They come, the unnamed and the dateless, They come as the waves of light, Like the murmuring breath of the pine-woods, Like the voices of the night.

And they leave their deep impressions In the tidemarks of the soul, Those pulses that come as in secret, And roll as the billows roll.

It may be in yon far region, Far above the remotest star, My glowing and growing vision May find what those pulses are.

May find in the land of the morning, In the brightness beyond the flood, That the pensive hush of the woodland Was a breath of the _peace_ of God.

Till then I will seek the pinewoods, I will muse with the falling leaves, And watch the design in symbols That the silent finger weaves.

And catch from the fleeting river, And the ocean so vast and broad, From the Autumn quiet and the pinewoods, How to know and worship God.

* * * * * * * *

*THE "GOLDEN NAILS" SERIES*

of

ADDRESSES TO THE YOUNG.

_Post 8vo size. Neat Cloth Binding. Price 1s. 6d. each._

"Messrs Oliphant, Anderson, & Ferrier's 'Golden Nails' Series is one of the happiest of recent enterprises in book-publishing. Every volume has had a good reception, and every new volume increases one's admiration for the enterprise."--_Expository Times_.

GOLDEN NAILS, and Other Addresses to Children. By the Rev. GEORGE MILLIGAN, B.D.

PLEASANT PLACES. Words to the Young. By the Rev. R. S. DUFF, D.D.

PARABLES AND SKETCHES. By ALFRED E. KNIGHT. With Illustrations by the Author.

SILVER WINGS. Addresses to Children. By the Rev. ANDREW G. FLEMING.

THREE FISHING BOATS, and Other Talks to Children. By the Rev. JOHN C. LAMBERT, B.D.

LAMPS AND PITCHERS, and Other Addresses to Children. By the Rev. GEORGE MILLIGAN, D.D.

A BAG WITH HOLES, and Other Talks to Children. By the Rev. JAS. AITCHISON.

KINGLESS FOLK, and Other Addresses on Bible Animals. By the Rev. JOHN ADAMS, B.D.