But, besides the moral worth attaching always to the act of doing what we are told to do, there was also a special dignity belonging to the work of a Merarite, even though that work was merely attending to a few “pins” or “sockets.” Every thing connected with the tabernacle was of the very deepest interest and highest value. There was not, in the whole world, any thing to be compared with that boarded tent with all its mystic belongings. It was a holy dignity and privilege to be allowed to touch the smallest pin that formed a part of that wonderful tabernacle in the wilderness. It was more glorious, by far, to be a Merarite looking after the pins of the tabernacle, than to wield the sceptre of Egypt or Assyria. True, that Merarite, according to the import of his name, might seem a poor “sorrowful” laboring man; but oh! his labor stood connected with the dwelling-place of the Most High God, the possessor of heaven and earth. His hands handled the things which were the patterns of things in the heavens. Every pin, every socket, every curtain, and every covering was a shadow of good things to come—a foreshadowing of Christ.
We do not mean to assert that the poor laboring Merarite or Gershonite understood these things. This is not, by any means, the point. _We_ can understand them. It is our privilege to bring all these things—the tabernacle and its mystic furniture—under the brilliant light of the New Testament, and there read Christ in all.
While, therefore, we predicate nothing as to the measure of intelligence possessed by the Levites in their respective work, we, at the same time, may say, with confidence, that it was a very precious privilege to be allowed to touch and handle, and bear through the wilderness, the earthly shadows of heavenly realities. Moreover, it was a special mercy to have the authority of a “Thus saith the Lord” for every thing they put their hand to. Who can estimate such a mercy—such a privilege? Each member of that marvelous tribe of workers had his own particular line of things marked out by God’s hand and superintended by God’s priest. It was not each doing what he liked himself, nor one man running in the wake of another, but all bowing to the authority of God, and doing precisely what they were told to do. This was the secret of order throughout the eight thousand five hundred and eighty workers (Chap. iv. 48.); and, we may say, with all possible confidence, it is the only true secret of order still. Why is it that we have so much confusion in the professing church? why such conflicting thoughts, feelings, and opinions? why such clashing one with another? why such crossing of each other’s path? Simply from the lack of entire and absolute submission to the Word of God. Our _will_ is at work. We choose our own ways, instead of allowing God to choose for us. We want that attitude and temper of soul in the which _all_ human thoughts (our own amongst them) shall be put down at what they are really worth, and God’s thoughts shall rise into full unqualified dominion.
This, we feel persuaded, is the grand desideratum—the crying want of the day in which our lot is cast. Man’s will is every where gaining the ascendant. It is rising like a mighty tide, and bearing away those ancient barriers which have, in some measure, kept it in check. Many an old and time-honored institution is, at this moment, giving way before the rushing torrent; many an edifice, whose foundations, as we supposed, were laid deep down in the fond and reverent affections of the people, is giving way beneath the battering-ram of popular feeling. “Let us break their bands asunder, and cast away their cords from us.”
Such is, pre-eminently, the spirit of the age. What is the antidote? _Subjection!_ Subjection to what? Is it to what is called the authority of the church? Is it to the voice of tradition? Is it to the commandments and doctrines of men? No, blessed be God; it is not to any of these things, nor to all of them put together. To what, then? To the voice of the living God—the voice of holy Scripture. This is the grand remedy for self-will on the one hand, and submission to human authority on the other. “We must _obey_,”—this is the answer to self-will: “We must obey _God_,”—this is the answer to mere bowing down to human authority. We see these two elements all around us. The former—self-will, resolves itself into infidelity; the latter—subjection to man, resolves itself into superstition. These two will bear sway over the whole civilized world. They will carry away all, save those who are divinely taught to say and feel and act upon that immortal sentence, “We must obey God rather than man.”