3. A great writer has said that the last act of a man's life is the test of it. " Show me thy fruits," says Browning —
Show me thy fruits, this latest act of thine; For in the last is summed the first and all.
And no doubt there is truth in the words. The last intelligent act in a man's life is in a sense the summing up of it, the flower and the fruit of the whole ; for then we see coming to their full fruition the forces that have often been unseen till then. Never- theless, if the last act is the fruit of a man's life, the first is the root of it. When once I have seen God face to face in some great elemental experience, when once my life has burned with the fire of His presence — then I have something that will never leave me, something that will go with me all the wilderness way ; and when I stand at the end of it I shall be ready like Moses to speak of " the good will of him " that met me long ago, and made my life burn with the fire of His presence.
' A. Maclareu.
DEUTERONOMY xxxiii. i6 39
(1) First look at the value of such a vision as an influence on a man's character. What is the glory of character ? Is it not strength ? A character may have any virtues you like, but if it lacks strength, it stands condemned. It may be brilliant, sacri- ficing, and that is its crown. But if it lacks strength, what is the use of it all ? Who is the man to whom you look for help in the hour of a country's need ? Is it the great orator, the brilliant speaker, the Aaron ? No, it is the Moses-like man, the " iron- pillar," the man who knows his mind and can stick to it amidst opposition, obloquy, and contempt. And, on the other hand, who is the woman to whom you look for true companionship and guid- ance in the long battle of life ? Is it the merely brilliant woman, the gifted talker, the drawing-room ornament? No; it is the woman of fidelity, the woman who can be true and loving when all others go against you. And what is the secret of truth ? Truth is just the other side of courage. As Walter Smith says —
It needeth courage to be true.
Courage, strength — the rock-like foundations of life; these are the first things. You can build on them afterwards anything you like. Without these the superstructure falls to ruin. The glory, then, of character is its strength, but strength comes only from a great experience ; and in the highest sense it comes only from the vision of God.
^ We can understand why Moses should have desired that his people might be blessed by God with " the precious things of heaven," with "the dew and the deep that coucheth beneath," with "the precious fruits brought forth by the sun" and "the precious things put forth by the moon." But why should he ask for them such a blessing as this ? — the good- will that God mani- fested when He dwelt in the unquenchable fire. Was not that aspect of Israel's God an aspect of deepest terror ? Did it not reveal Him in those attributes which do not suggest good- will ? Nay, my brother, it is not so. It is not only in the calm that the good-will of thy God appears, it is not only in nature's smile that the blessing of thy Father is seen. The heart of thy Father beats for thee beneath every cloud as well as in every sunbeam ; the blessing of thy Father is in thy night as well as in thy day. To thee, as to every man, He comes betimes in a chariot of fire ; with thee, as with every man. He dwells betimes in the burniDg bush of a wilderness ; but the fire chariot is His chariot, the burning
40 THE GOOD WILL OF A LIFETIME
bush is His dwelling-place. The fire of thy God is love ; its burn- ing is the burning of love. The pains of thy life are not accidents ; they are gifts from thy Father's hand. The fire of the burning bush is meant to set fire to thy heart. It is designed to kindle thee into a glow of enthusiasm, to warm thee with the love of humanity. How canst thou be warmed with the love of human- ity if thou hast not in thee that fellowship of the Cross which unites soul to soul ? The fire that comes to thee from the bush is that which consumes the barrier between thy heart and the heart of thy brother.^
Across the lone floor of the rayless night One came to a door that was barred on light, A glimmer a-gleam through beckoning chink, As with lamp's still beam, as with taper's blink, And sore she sued their shrine to win, From mirk and moan of the wild shut in, And fled the fear its menace bore With shrouding of shadow evermore.
So out of the dark, as it breathed its dread,