One in a vision saw a woman fair; In her left hand a water jar she bare,
And in her right a burning torch she held That shed around a fierce and ruddy glare.
1 J. LI. Da vies.
ROMANS viii. 15 461
Sternly she said, "With fire I will burn down The halls of Heaven; with water I will drown The fires of Hell, — that all men may be good From love, not fear, nor hope of starry crown.
The fear of punishment, the lust of pay, With Heaven and Hell shall also pass away,
And righteousness alone shall fill each heart With the glad splendour of its shining ray."
Such is the Hindoo legend quaintly told In Bernard Picart's famous folio old;
And 'neath this symbol ethnical, we may A moral for the present time behold.
When fear of punishment and greed of pay Shall faint and die in Love's serener day,
Then shall the Kingdom of the Lord arrive And earth become the Heaven for which we pray.1
5. The spirit of bondage is due to world-weariness, to the torment of conscience, or to the fear of death.
(1) It is due to weariness with this world. Are we mere people of the world, loving money, pleasure, vanity, sin, loving to live as our own evil hearts incline us ? And yet there are times when we tear ourselves away from these beloved things to say our prayers — to come to Church — to attend the Holy Communion — to read the Bible. Do we love to pray ? Have we a delight in the service we attend ? Do we find refreshment in the Sacrament ? Is the word of God sweet to us ? No ; but, on the contrary, we are ready to exclaim, whilst engaged in any of these exercises, " What a weariness it is ! when will it be over ? " It is, in short, all part of our weariness with the world itself. We attend to these things partly in hope of finding pleasure in them, but chiefly out of some sense of duty or some fear of the consequence of neglect.
Dear Saints, it is not sorrow, as I hear, Nor suffering, which shuts up eye and ear To all that has delighted them before, And lets us be what we were once no more. No, we may suffer deeply, yet retain Power to be moved and soothed, for all our pain, By what of old pleased us, and will again. 1 W. E. A. Axon.
462 THE SPIRIT OF A SON
No, 'tis the gradual furnace of the world,
In whose hot air our spirits are upcurled
Until they crumble, or else grow like steel —
Which kills in us the bloom, the youth, the spring —
"Which leaves the fierce necessity to feel,
But takes away the power — this can avail,
By drying up our joy in everything,
To make our former pleasures all seem stale.1
(2) It is due to the torment of a guilty conscience. The spirit of bondage is strikingly seen in the case of those who are just awakened to a sense and feeling of their sins. Observe a man in this condition who has not yet discovered the fulness and the freeness of the gospel offer of salvation. He sees himself a lost and ruined sinner. God's holy and spiritual commandments are written up, as it were, before his eyes, and he looks at them as Belshazzar did at the handwriting on the wall — looks and trembles. And what does this poor trembling sinner do to mend his case ? He labours with all his might to make himself accept- able to God ; multiplies his prayers and duties ; tries to keep the whole law; resolves to mortify his flesh, to forsake every evil habit, to practise every grace which his Bible recommends. As for the salvation of Christ Jesus, he has no other idea of what it means than to hope that he may render himself worthy of it by a strict obedience to the law. And yet he finds that his duties and observances lie heavy on him. They are but vain attempts to satisfy an accusing conscience and to heal a wounded spirit. He foes about them in a melancholy frame of mind, feeling all the time he is engaged in them that he has undertaken a work which is far beyond his strength. He feels just as Israel did at Sinai, when they saw God as " a consuming fire " and trembled under the voice of His commandments.
If I could shut the gate against my thoughts And keep out sorrow from this room within,
Or memory could cancel all the notes Of my misdeeds, and I unthink my sin :
How free, how clear, how clean my soul should lie,
Discharged of such a loathsome company !
1 Matthew Arnold.
ROMANS viii. 15 463
Or were there other rooms without my heart That did not to my conscience join so near,
Where I might lodge the thoughts of sin apart That I might not their clamorous crying hear,
What peace, what joy, what ease should I possess,
Freed from their horrors that my soul oppress!
But, 0 my Saviour, who my refuge art,
Let Thy dear mercies stand 'twixt them and me,