The person is God--He who spake by holy men of old, speaking here by the lips of angels. Where there is a will, there is a way, is a brave and admirable proverb. Yet, though comparatively true in most cases, to some it is altogether inapplicable. Look, for example, at the women who, when the men had turned cowards, boldly follow our Lord to Calvary, bewailing and lamenting Him! What tears they shed, what a wail they raise, when the door opens, and, surrounded by armed guards, Jesus comes forth from the Judgment Hall, bleeding, bound, crowned with thorns. When He sank down on the street under the weight of the cross, and His blessed head lay low in the dust, had there been a chance of saving Him, how had they rushed to His help; and, giving their naked breasts to the Roman spears, burst through the circle to rescue Him; to die with Him rather than desert Him. But they were helpless. Their good will availed the loved object nothing--beyond this, that the sympathy flowing in their tears and expressed in their looks, somewhat soothed the sorrows of His heart, and fell like balm drops on His smarting wounds.
Again, what good will did David bear to Jonathan! Did Jonathan love David as his own soul? and under circumstances calculated to dissolve all common friendships, and work such change on the heart as wine suffers when it turns into vinegar, did Jonathan's sentiments continue unchanged, his affection unabated to the last? His love was strong as death; many waters could not quench it. But it was amply requited. David proved that with his harp; had he been present on that fatal field where the bow of Jonathan was broken, he had proved it with his sword. With what a lion spring had he answered Jonathan's cry for help; how had he bestrode his fallen friend, covering him with his battered shield; mowing a way through the ranks of the Philistines, how had he borne him off to a place of safety, or falling in the attempt, left others to compose their elegy, and sing, They were pleasant in their lives, and in death they were not divided! God is a very present help in time of trouble; but there was no help for Jonathan in David. Far away from that bloody field, his good will availed Jonathan nothing--beyond embalming his rare virtues in immortal song, and in an imperishable lament raising an imperishable monument to the memory of a man whose love to him was wonderful, passing the love of women.
Again, what good will in his father's heart to Esau? But the old man's hands are tied. Fresh from the chase, and ignorant of what has happened in his absence, Esau approaches Isaac, saying, Let my father arise and eat of his son's venison, that thy soul may bless me! Who art thou? says the blind old man--astonished that any should ask what he has already given away. Recognising the beloved voice which replied, I am thy son, thy first-born Esau, and dreading some dire calamity, Isaac trembled exceedingly, crying, "Who? where is he that hath taken venison and brought it me; and I have eaten of all before thou camest, and have blessed him? yea, and he shall be blessed." By the basest, cruelest fraud, Jacob has possessed himself of the blessing; and if their mother, his own partner in guilt, was watching the issue of this perfidious plot, how had it pierced her heart to hear Esau, when the truth flashed on his mind and he saw the treasure stolen, cry, "with a great and exceeding bitter cry, Bless me, even me also, O my father!" The strong man, the bold hardy hunter, lifted up his voice and wept; seeking repentance, as the apostle says--to get Isaac to undo the deed--with tears but found it not. What availed his father's good will to him, his favourite son? What was done must stand. The blessing was gone; and Isaac, though he had the will, had no way to recall it.