He might have come in regal pomp,
With pealing of Archangel trump —
An angel blast as loud and dread
As that which shall awake the dead . . .
He came not thus ; no earthquake shock
Shiver'd the everlasting rock ;
No trumpet blast nor thunder peal
Made earth through all her regions reel;
* Lyman Abbott.
ST. LUKE II. lo, II 35
And but for the mysterious voicing Of that unearthly choir rejoicing; And but for that strange herald gem, The star which burned o'er Bethlehem, The shepherds, on His natal morn, Had known not that the God was born. There were no terrors, for the song Of peace rose from the seraph throng; On wings of love He came — to save, To pluck pale terror from the grave, And on the blood-stain'd Calvary He won for man the victory.^
3. " There is born ... the Lord."
(1) In the Child horn at Bethlehem we find God. — How steadily do the angel's words climb upwards, as it were, from the cradle to the throne. He begins with the lowly birth, and then rises, step by step, each word opening a wider and more wonderful prospect, to that climax beyond which there is nothing — that this infant is "the Lord." The full joy and tremendous wonder of the first word are not felt till we read the last. The birth is the birth of "the Lord." We cannot give any but the highest meaning to that sacred name, which could have but one meaning to a Jew. It was much that there was born a Saviour — much that there was born a Messiah. Men need a deliverer, and the proclamation here is best kept in its widest meaning — as of one who sets free from all ills outward and inward, and brings all outward and inward good. The Saviour of men must be a man, and therefore it is good news that He is born. It was much that Messiah should be born. The fulfilment of the wistful hopes of many generations, the accomplishment of prophecy, the Divine com- munication of the Spirit which fitted kings and priests of old for their work, the succession to David's throne, were all declared in that one announcement that the Christ was born in David's city. But that last word, " the Lord," crowns the wonder and the bless- ing, while it lays the only possible foundation for the other two names.
If, on the one hand, man's Saviour must be man, on the other, He must be more than man ; and nothing short of a Divine man can heal the wounds of mankind, or open a fountain of blessing
1 N. T. Carrington.
36 GOOD TIDINGS OF GREAT JOY
sufficient for their needs. Unless God become man, there can be no Saviour ; nor can there be any Christ. For no mere humanity can bear the full gift of the Divine Spirit, which is Messiah's anointing for His office, nor discharge that office in all its depth and breadth. Many in this day try to repeat the angel's message, and leave out the last word, and then they wonder that it stirs little gladness and works no salvation. Let us be sure that, unless the birth at Bethlehem was the Incarnation of Deity, it would have called forth no angel songs, nor will it work any deliver- ance or bring any joy to men.
^ A God in the sky will never satisfy men and women upon earth. God on the mountain will never suffice man on the plain. True, it is much, very much, to know that God is in heaven, " Tlie high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity," above earth's petty discords and changing views and selfish passions. But this falls short, pitiably short, of man's demands. It is, at best, an icy creed, and not, by itself, the warm, loving creed of the Christian. For it leaves a gulf between God and man, with no bridge to pass over. It is the difference between Olympus and Olivet. What — so the heart will ask — is the good of a God "above the bright blue sky," when I am down here upon earth ? What intimacy can there be between " the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity " and an earth-born being such as I am ? How could the missionaries persuade men that such a God loved them, cared for them, felt with them ? How, indeed, could God Himself so persuade men, save by coming and living among them, sharing their lives, experiencing their temptations, drinking the " vinegar and gall " which they drank, suffering in the flesh as they sufiered ? There was no other way. Hence the Incarnation. " The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us."
It is related of a celebrated musician that, when asked to compose a National Anthem for the people of another country, he went and lived with them, studied them from within, shared ^ their poverty, became one with them that he might become one of them, and w^as thus, and only thus, enabled to express their feelings in his music. This is what God did at the Incarnation.^
^ When the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, the finite met the Infinite — the temporal, the Eternal. Heaven and earth coalesced, not in semblance, but in reality ; not by proxy, but in the wonderful Person that combined the highest character- istics of both. In Him all fulness — the fulness of the Creator * K E. Holmes, The Days of the Week, 42.