(3) There are hours when we wish to escape from ourselves. We begin by thinking that if we could change our lot we should be very happy and contented. We imagine that if we could only
JEREMIAH ix. 2 33
get away into new scenes, it would be infinitely restful. But as we grow older, and perhaps wiser, we discover that, go where we will, we carry our own hearts with us, and that what we really craved for — although we did not know it — was not a change of scene but change of self. We come to know ourselves so well as life proceeds — our weaknesses, our limitations. There are men who have everything to make them happy, yet somehow they have not the genius to be happy. Hence springs the strange rebellion of unrest; the wish for the wings of the morning that we may fly away, not merely from the burden of our lot, but from the heavier burden of ourselves.
If Men often blind themselves to facts, and weave theories to make the burden lighter. They speak of sin and death and poverty and care in a way that is irreconcilable with facts. It is not truth they are seeking, it is ease. It is not actuality, it is relief. They want the world to be golden, and they make it so, though it is full of sorrow and leaden-eyed despair — and remember, there is a cowardice of mind, no less than a cowardice upon the field of battle. When men turn away from the straight gaze of Christ, and when they run to philosophies and theories which have no cry in them, no cross, no blood — only harmonious and flattering music — that is another betrayal of the strange yet quenchless longing to escape.1
Tf I suppose that the most exalted and least " casual " of worldly joys consists in the adequate recognition by the world of high achievement by ourselves. Yet it is notorious that —
It is by God decreed Fame shall not satisfy the highest need.
It has been my lot to know not a few of the famous men of our generation, and I have always observed that this is profoundly true. Like all other " moral " satisfactions, this soon palls by custom, and as soon as one end of distinction is reached another is pined for. There is no finality to rest in, while disease and death are always standing in the background. Custom may even blind men to their misery so far as not to make them realize what is wanting ; yet the want is there. I take it, then, as unquestion- ably true that this whole negative side of the subject proves a vacuum in the soul of man which nothing can fill save faith in God.2
1 G. H. Morrison, The Unlighted Lustre, 109.
2 G. J. Romanes, Thoughts on Religion. JER.-MAL. — 3
34 THE CALL OF LIFE
In the ancient orderly places, with a blank and orderly mind, We sit in our green walled gardens and our corn and oil increase ; Sunset nor dawn can wake us, for the face of the heavens is kind; We light our taper at even and call our comfort peace.
Peaceful our clear horizon, calm as our sheltered days
Are the lilied meadows we dwell in, the decent highways we tread. Duly we make our offerings, but we know not the God we praise, For He is the God of the living, but we, His children, are dead.
I will arise and get me beyond this country of dreams,
Where all is ancient and ordered and hoar with the frost of years, To the land where loftier mountains cradle their wilder streams, And the fruitful earth is blessed with more bountiful smiles and tears, —
There in the home of the lightnings, where the fear of the Lord is set free, Where the thunderous midnights fade to the turquoise magic of morn, The days of man are a vapour, blown from a shoreless sea, A little cloud before sunrise, a cry in the void forlorn —
I am weary of men and cities and the service of little things, Where the namelike glories of life are shrunk to a candle's ray. Smite me, my God, with Thy presence, blind my eyes with Thy wings, In the heart of Thy virgin earth show me Thy secret way I1
II.
The Obligation to Persevere.
1. The day came when Jeremiah could gratify his wish. After Jerusalem was taken and everything was lost, a home in Babylon
1 John Buchan, A Lodge, in the Wilderness.
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was offered to him. He could have had dignified ease. He had friends at court ; the Babylonian general was ready to secure for him all his heart could wish. He could enjoy well-earned repose. Now at the end of the long day it was fitting that rest be appointed to the labourer. Twenty years before, the longing had been strong within him for just such an opportunity as this, and he had resisted it ; but now at the long last, the chance has come his way. Will he put it past him, or will he eagerly seize it ? He is dragged along as a prisoner, and there, while the manacles are struck off his wrists, this tempting future is opened up before him. And yet the issue is not for a moment in doubt. He cannot even now find it in his heart to leave his people. The bald narrative cannot hide from us the heroism and renunciation involved in the act. "Then went Jeremiah unto Gedaliah the son of Ahikam to Mizpah, and dwelt with him among the people that were left in the land." In a passion of despair he broke out with the cry, " Oh that I might leave my people ! " But he did not leave them. He was too noble and generous at heart to become a mere looker- on. For this craving is a moral weakness. The heroic natures in every age are not seated on the balcony ; they are down among their fellow-men, bearing the strain and stress of their position, identifying themselves willingly with the people among whom it may have pleased God to cast their lot, and brave enough to meet