The Psalmist perceived that in Nature the retribution and the payment take no account of moral character; they are given simply for the special work omitted, and for the special work accomplished. The missionary may be the most pious of men, but if he goes to sea in a bad ship he will probably go to the bottom. The judgment is righteous so far as it goes; Nature exacts respect to its laws of cohesion, and if a man disregards these, she punishes him. But what of the missionary zeal, what of the fervent piety, what of the enthusiasm for humanity, which has prompted the enterprise ? Has the judgment of Nature been in congruity with that ? We feel instinctively that it has not ; we feel that the judgment is only physically true, that the violated elements in avenging their infringement have failed to appreciate the moral grandeur of the man's character. As long as we fix our eye exclusively on the physical universe, we are perpetually confronted by the same experience : " He maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good." Nature is morally impartial. No special sunbeam follows the upright; no special cloud tracks the course of the ungodly. The light- ning does not dart from the sky to paralyse the hand of the murderer, nor does the thunder roll displeasure on the deed of crime.
But in his own conscience a man is confronted by a direct judgment upon its right and wrong — a judgment which speaks to it only as a moral being, and refuses to deal with any other sphere than that of actions. It is a judgment invisible to every eye save that of him for whom it is intended, a sentence inaudible to every ear save that of him to whom it speaks. A man basking in the
^ G. Matheson.
PSALM XIX. 7-9 339
outward sunshine may be under its cloud ; a man wrapt in the outward cloud may be under its illumination. But however silent and however invisible is its operation, its force to him who experiences it is terribly real. The judgment of Conscience upon goodness is the gift bequeathed by the Divine Founder of Christianity : " Peace I leave with you ; my peace I give unto you." Christianity has brought into the world a joy which the world knows not, a peace which, like its illustrious Giver, shines in an uncomprehending darkness. Into this invisible joy, into this uncomprehended peace, the pure soul enters and finds repose. He passes noiselessly into the paradise of God, and receives in the midst of the world that crown of which the world is unconscious. He obtains from the silent testimony of a reconciled Conscience that recognition of moral purity which the many voices of Nature fail to yield ; and in that recognition he reaches the supply of the last remaining want in the physical revelation : " The judgements of the Lord are true, and righteous altogether."
The years Poll back ; and through a mist of tears I see a child turn from her play, And seek, with eager feet, the way That led her to her father's knee.
"If God is wise and kind," said she, " Why did He let my roses die ? " A moment's pause, a smile, a sigh. And then, " I do not know, my dear, Some questions are not answered here."
" But is it wrong to ask ? " " Not so. My child. That we should seek to know Proves right to know, beyond a doubt; And some day we shall yet find out Why roses die."
And then I wait, Sure of my answer, soon or late ; Secure that love doth hold for me The key to life's great mystery ; And oh ! so glad to leave it there ! Though my dead roses were so fair.
340 THE PERFECT LAW
III.
The Joy of Obedience.
1. Law is the expression of highest love, and can be fulfilled only by love. The perfectness of this law-keeping life we have iu Jesus, and of all the praises which the worship of these nineteen centuries has heaped upon His name, the superlative ground of reverence, love, loyal discipleship, thankful commemoration of Him on earth till we fall at His feet in heaven, is that in Him alone we have the living law — the law of the Lord which is perfect, incarnate in a life no less perfect.
^ The Psalmist saw a great deal more than most people of God's loving spirit, as embodied in the law. By his aspirations and by his prayers, the law had become greater and dearer to him than to most men : and when in moments of deep devotion he asked God for greater delight in His law, he cried not out, " Give me more law," but he cried, " Give me light," " Open mine eyes that I may behold wondrous things out of thy law." And the answer to his devout prayer has been given to us through Jesus.^
2. When love is the motive, obedience becomes not only a privilege, but a delight. The moments when for duty, for righteousness' sake, in the service of God, and of man as the child of God, we have made strenuous effort or costly sacrifice, have been the great moments of our lives, — they have given us immeasurably more than happiness, — we would have incurred what we call unhappiness in order to secure them. When, too, our lives have flowed on in an even course of faithful duty, with no breaks of supineness, negligence, waywardness, discontent, or unkindness, with no intervals on a lower plane than the table-land on which we can walk at equal pace with God and with man, it has been for us an experience immeasurably more blessed than we have derived from any fulness of enjoyment beside. Even if at such periods there has been disappointment, loss, or grief, the current of a more than earthly joy has flowed on, pure and transparent, through the turbid stream of the lower life, if some- times beneath, much oftener above, the surface of the troubled waters. If we would only thus live always, though it were under