from thee, and all things which were dainty and goodly are departed from thee, and thou shalt find them no more at all. Or according to the Revised Version: "And the fruits which thy soul lusted after are gone from thee, and all things that were dainty and sumptuous are perished from thee, and men shall find them no more at all":- reminding us of St. Paul's words to the Colossians: "... The rudiments of the world... (Touch not; taste not; handle not; which all are to perish with the using)." As regards the second clause of the doom (in this verse), the two Versions suggest each its own sense. The Authorized, as if those objects of desire may have been not destroyed but withdrawn whilst the craving remains insatiable. According to both texts the loss appears absolute, final, irreparable; but (collating the two) that which departs instead of perishing leaves behind it in addition to the agony of loss the hankering, corroding misery of absence. 15. The merchants of these things, which were made rich by her, shall stand afar off for the fear of her torment, weeping and wailing, 16. And saying, Alas, alas, that great city, that was clothed in fine linen, and purple, and scarlet, and decked with gold, and precious stones, and pearls! 17. For in one hour so great riches is come to nought. And every shipmaster, and all the company in ships, and sailors, and as many as trade by sea, stood afar off, This desolation which we have not yet seen must one day be seen. Meanwhile we have known preludes, rehearsals, foretastes of such as this: so that looking back through the centuries we may take up our lamentation and say :— Alas Sodom once full of bread! From empty fulness, Good Lord, deliver us. Alas Tyre whose merchants were princes! From riches but not toward God, Good Lord, deliver us. Alas the man whose barns sufficed not! From heart and hands shut close, Good Lord, deliver us. Alas Dives clothed in purple and fine linen! From remediless destitution, Good Lord, deliver us. And looking forward we may say :— Alas any whom the unknown day and hour find unprepared! From the folly of the foolish virgins, Good Lord, deliver us. And looking around us trembling we needs must say :— Alas England full of luxuries and thronged by stinted poor, whose merchants are princes and whose dealings crooked, whose packed storehouses stand amid bare homes, whose gorgeous array has rags for neighbours! From a canker in our gold and silver, from a moth in our garments, from blasted crops, from dwindling substance, from righteous retribution abasing us among the nations, Good Lord, deliver us. Amen. 18. And cried when they saw the smoke of her burning, saying, What city is like unto this great city! If any shipmasters and crews, sailors and sea-traders, have yet to lament and quake, well may arrogant England amid her seas quake and lament betimes. "What city is like unto this great city!"-Like what she was, like what she is: her present tallying with her past. For purposes of probation height and depth are at once distinguishable and continuous: man, the probationer set midway between their extremities, has it within his option to reclaim either from the other. Probation over, height and depth, whilst still of two aspects, will yet form one evidently undivided sequence; to the summit or to the base of which consummated man has worked his way. And why not all the baptized to the summit? "Ye did run well; who did hinder you that ye should not obey the truth ?" 19. And they cast dust on their heads, and cried, weeping and wailing, saying, Alas, alas, that great city, wherein were made rich all that had ships in the sea by reason of her costliness! for in one hour is she made desolate. To cast dust on the head with penitence attests death unto sin. To cast dust on the head with impenitence prefigures the second death. Sin conducts all to one goal. The land sinner finds dust in plenty; the seafaring sinner shall inherit dust enough. Thank God, ample provision is stored for every penitent wheresoever and whatsoever: dust, ashes, are ready to hand for all. Lord, array us in spiritual sackcloth, that by penitence we may bear witness to Thy Goodness. 20. Rejoice over her, thou heaven, and ye holy apostles and prophets; for God hath avenged you on her. In the Revised Version: 66 Rejoice over her, thou heaven, and ye saints, and ye apostles, and ye prophets; for God hath judged your judgment on her." This second rendering endears itself to us all the more because in it we meet with simple "saints," saints of any shade or degree. All are not " apostles " or " prophets," neither can be: "heaven" suggests (for the time being) the exceeding nobility of the ninefold angelic host, too exalted for the Church's fellowship during her prolonged exile. But high and low, rich and poor, young and old, great and small meet together as "saints" in a general beatitude; not one is absent, overlooked, forgotten. Behold them at last! All His saints are in His hand, He has kept their feet, they are rejoicing in goodness, singing unto the Lord, loving the Lord, fearing the Lord but without torment, gathered together unto Him, a congregation, an assembly, their souls preserved, their death precious in His sight, shouting aloud for joy, blessing God Who is their praise, joyful in glory, every one honourable, having attained unto the kingdom. Behold saints from Lydda, beloved ones of God called to be saints from Rome, poor saints from Jerusalem, saints known to us by name and other saints with them, saints from Achaia, from Ephesus, all in Christ Jesus from Philippi; now fellow-citizens of no mean city, partakers of the inheritance in light. "My love be with you all in Christ Jesus. Amen." The hills are tipped with sunshine, while I walk In shadows dim and cold: The unawakened rose sleeps on her stalk In a bud's fold, Until the sun flood all the world with gold. The hills are crowned with glory, and the glow Unto the sunny hill-tops I, set low, Lift a tired face, Ah, happy rose, content to wait for grace! How tired a face, how tired a brain, how tired A heart I lift, who long For something never felt but still desired; Sunshine and song Song where the choirs of sunny heaven stand choired. 21. And a mighty angel took up a stone like a great millstone, and cast it into the sea, saying, Thus with violence shall that great city Babylon be thrown down, and shall be found no more at all. So of old Noah beheld the whole wicked world "like a great millstone" vanish beneath the flood. So after Lot fled, the cities of the plain "salted with fire" were superseded by the Dead Sea. So the Red Sea swallowed up the strength of Egypt. [I am aware that a different site has been proposed for the cities of the plain, and that I only follow one opinion.] "We have heard with our ears, O God, our fathers have told us, what work Thou didst in their days, in the times of old." The deed of this "mighty Angel" seems at first sight inimitable by man. Yet ponder our Lord's injunction to the Twelve: "Have faith in God. For verily I say unto you, That whosoever shall say unto this mountain, Be thou removed, and be thou cast into the sea; and shall not doubt in his heart, but shall believe that those things which he saith shall come to pass; he shall have whatsoever he saith" :-sacred words which besides any literal promise doubtless convey a profound spiritual lesson. Feeling our way amongst these Apocalyptic symbols, these mysteries of life and death, we observe the mother of abominations and mistress of kings and peoples seated upon seven mountains; dark mountains whereon our feet stumble. The darkness conceals much, but not all. For so long as there are seven stumbling-blocks (well known, alas! to most of us) upholding and upheld by the world, overtopping Pride, Anger flaming and fuming in the face of heaven, Gluttony bloated as a toad in a stone, Lust a slippery precipice, Avarice hard as a flint, Envy barren as peaks above the snow-line, Sloth deadly as sleep amid that snow, by labouring to remove these stumbling-blocks from our own heavenward path, and so far as in us lies from our neighbour's, we can and shall do somewhat towards undermining the throne of the world. "Who art thou, O great mountain ?" Before faith working by prayer thou shalt be swept away. "He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city "thus may any earnest person help to take, and taking to overthrow, Babylon. Moreover, by aspiring to become that which "is better," we shall also one by one take another city, a city which hath foundations, and wherein we may abide for ever. O Lord God, Whose Strength is sufficient for all who lay hold on it, grant us in Thee to comfort our hearts and be strong. Humility, meekness, temperance, purity, large-heartedness, sympathy, zeal, grant us these evidences of faith, handmaids of hope, fruits of love. For the sake of Jesus Christ our Strength, our Righteousness, our Hope of glory. Amen. This great lewd Babylon which "shall be found no more at all," becomes (whatever else she may be) a figure to us of strong temptation: harassing, persistent, insistent, all but irresistible to-day; to-morrow nothing. It is not merely that the world will be abolished; my own temptation from the world must end in one of two ways: either I shall have sunk below any pleasures, or I shall have risen above polluting pleasures. If only I could realize to practical purpose that even long-drawn incessant temptation is yet not interminable. What is this above thy head, O Man? The World, all overspread A sight which day and night What is this beneath thy feet, The World, a nauseous sweet What is she while time is time, In a perpetual prime Breeds flowers thro' dancing hours While time lengthens what is she, Nought yea, all men shall see Of fire ends their desire Ah, poor Man, befooled and slow Ah, poorest Man, if so Thou turn thy back on bliss And choose amiss! For thou art choosing now: 22. And the voice of harpers, and musicians, and of pipers, and trumpeters, shall be heard no more at all in thee; and no craftsman, of whatsoever craft he be, shall be found any more in thee; and the sound of a millstone shall be heard no more at all in thee; 23. And the light of a candle shall shine no more at all in thee; and the voice of the bridegroom and of the bride shall be heard no more at all in thee: for thy merchants were the great men of the earth; for by thy sorceries were all nations deceived. No more in Babylon. But in New Jerusalem we shall hear once more (God grant it!) the voice of harpers harping with their harps. |