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ment.

AMOS vi. 12.

HE prophet Amos was in all probability a native of the little town of Tekoa, on the borders of the desert of Judah -a town to which we have not infrequent reference in the Old TestaHe describes himself as dwelling there "among the shepherds," and we must conceive of him, not as a rich owner of flocks, but as a simple shepherd. In describing his position, he claims no higher distinction. "I am not," he says, "a prophet, nor yet a prophet's pupil; but a herdsman, a gatherer of sycamores," food which was but lightly esteemed, and only used by the poor of the people. We are not, then, to picture Amos to ourselves as a comparatively wealthy man, with a flock and a sycamore plantation of his own-but as a common shepherd, content in his poverty to subsist on the simplest fare.

It was while engaged in this very humble calling, while he was living in obscurity "among the shepherds of Tekoa," thinking little of himself, and thought little of by others, that the word of the Lord reached him, summoning him to engage in the great work of prophesying unto Israel. On receiving this call he seems at once to have gone to Bethel, where he denounced the sin and idolatry of the people, and where he encountered the priest Amaziah, who endeavoured to drive him away as one who was insolently and presumptuously interfering with matters with which he had no concern. He, however, though only a poor shepherd, felt that the burden of the Lord was upon him, and he lifted up his voice and spared not.

The period during which Amos ministered was the one in which the kingdom of Israel enjoyed the largest measure of material prosperity; and because, perhaps, of this very prosperity, though it was a season of spiritual apostasy and moral decay, a spirit of profound insensibility distinguished the people-no one seemed apprehensive of danger, no one entertained the idea that God would ever visit the nation in judgment on account of its sin.

It was at this juncture that Amos was sent forth to announce those Divine judgments which were to descend upon the kingdom of Israel, and especially upon the house of Jeroboam. This unlettered shepherd had to proclaim the unwelcome tidings, that the kingdom, then prosperous, was to be overthrown by a foreign foe; and though Amos does not expressly name Assyria, it is evident that he is looking to that

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nation as the instrument which God will employ for the accomplishment of His divine purposes.

While the prophet makes it plain that judgment is in reserve, not for Israel only, it is with the sin of Israel and the punishment which is finally to overtake that nation that he is chiefly concerned; and yet, dark as is the picture drawn by him, the book comes to its conclusion with the promise of a glorious deliverance for Israel, and of renewed prosperity under the house of David.

Throughout this book we can trace the influence of the early occupations and associations of the prophet. In Amos we see the shepherdprophet, as distinctly as in David we see the shepherd-king. The reminiscences of his early life "among the shepherds of Tekoa," give an unmistakable character and colouring to his writings. Many of the similitudes and allusions we meet with in this book are such as would only occur to one having intimate acquaintance with nature and the occupations of rural and pastoral life. The general intention of the book, and its form as determined by the early associations of the prophet, has been thus well expressed :— "This little book is wonderfully arranged. With a single word Joel rouses Amos; it is, as it were, the text of his whole prophecy, the substance of all his utterances; and what he declared was the thundering voice of God's judgment upon His people. A frightful storm comes down on Israel; we see the lightnings flashing hither and thither, from one people to another, till at last the gloomy storm-clouds stand over Israel and discharge themselves upon their guilty heads. But finally, after fearful bursts, the tempest passes away, and the pure blue heaven comes out over the people of God. This is the sum of our prophecy. We see a storm issuing from the Lord with all His terrors, but also with all His blessings, in which it at last terminates. What Amos, as a herdsman, had heard and seen in the open country with his herds, he as a prophet brings before our spiritual vision with marvellous fidelity."

He begins his prophecy announcing the ap proaching judgment which is to roll like a storm over Damascus, Tyre, Edom, Ammon, Moab, touching Judah as it passes, while it finally rests on Israel. Coming to Israel, he declares that judgment is pronounced against it because of its sin and its continued impenitence, in spite of all the warnings which had been addressed to it. We then have the prophet uttering the lament over

Israel, and declaring that safety can alone be found by turning to Jehovah, the God of Hosts; while a woe is pronounced upon those who desire the day of the Lord, vainly imagining that it will be to them a day of deliverance and prosperity, whereas while they continue in such a state, it can only be to them a day of judgment— a day of wrath and terror.

In this chapter (chap. vi.) the woe is pronounced upon the secure and careless-those who fancy that the day of the Lord is far off, and who therefore the more fully set their hearts within them to do evil.

The prophet, first of all, draws a very striking picture of careless and sinful security. We see a transgressing people making light of God's threatenings, confiding in their privileges and their pre-eminence among other nations-exulting in their power, their material prosperity, and wholly given over to their sinful pleasures. The prophet reminds them of the gracious way in which God had dealt with them as a nation, and that owing to the distinguishing mercy of Jehovah, against whom they were so grievously sinning, they were not inferior in greatness and prosperity to any of the neighbouring nations. He then shows us how those who were thus regardless of God, gave themselves up to all kinds of wickedness; and then he declares how these thoughtless and infatuated Israelites who have been pre-eminent in wickedness and careless security, are to be distinguished by a sad pre-eminence in the sufferings they will endure under the just judgments of God. The princes who have been first in riches, in ostentatious display, in luxurious self-indulgence, are to lead the procession of captives-are to be the first to bear the yoke of bondage. Terrible in its completeness is the desolation which is to overtake Israel-if there remain ten men in one house that have escaped the sword of the enemy, they are not to escape destruction, they are to die of famine or pestilence. Nothing can be more striking than the picture which the prophet draws. He represents the uncle, the father's brother, who may stand here for any near relative, whose duty it was to see to the burying of the dead, approaching with fear and trembling a house in which sword, famine, pestilence, have been doing their deadly work. He comes with one who, with reference to the errand on which he comes, is described as the "burner," suggesting the idea that the mortality of the city was such that to bury the dead in the usual way had become impossible, and that the dead bodies had to be collected and burned, that the pestilence-laden atmosphere be not further contaminated by their decomposition. The uncle, whose duty it is to see that the dead bodies of his kinsfolk are buried or burned, asks the last living person in the house, who has retired into some remote corner to save his life, whether there is any one else alive, and

on being assured that there is none, he at once, thinking he may in his distress make some appeal to God, interrupts him, saying, "Be still! Hush! The name of Jehovah must not be mentioned "the kinsman being evidently fearful lest the mention of Jehovah's name direct the attention of Heaven to the solitary survivor, and bring down a judgment upon him.

Having held up to their view this fearful picture of what was in store for them, the prophet in the remaining verses of this chapter assures them that, do what they may, they will be unable to avert or escape the coming judgment of the Lord, and he seeks to startle them into attention by proposing the self-answering questions, "Shall horses run upon the rock? Will one plough there with oxen?" The attempt to do the one or the other of these things is represented as preposterous, unreasonable; even so preposterous and unreasonable is your turning "judgment into gall, and the fruit of righteousness into hemlock." Their perversion of justice and truth into poison and wormwood cannot in the nature of things bring any good result to them. You are attempting, says the prophet, to do what is impossible-what is impracticable. Horses cannot run up the steep cliff, oxen with a plough cannot break up and pulverise the stratum of hard rock so neither can ye do such things as ye are doing, and attain to true prosperity, or escape punishment.

It is more easy to change the course of nature, than the course and order of God's providence, or the great principles of eternal and immutable morality. These Israelites were making the attempt; but the prophet assures them that they shall find out the folly of their conduct in the result, and he here endeavours to convince them of the absurdity, the impracticability of their attempt. Does any one try to drive horses up a steep cliff? Does any one plough with oxen on the rock? Would not he be esteemed mad who made such an attempt? It is just as reasonable for one to hope to prosper, or to escape punishment, who turns judgment into gall, and the fruit of righteousness into hemlock.

If we go into the natural world, we find that it is governed by certain laws, by certain fixed and unchangeable principles, and no sane person thinks of opposing those laws, or reversing them; we know every one knows-that our comfort, our well-being, our safety in this world, depend upon our recognition of these natural laws, and our submission to them. We know that if a man cast himself over a precipice, the law of gravitation will not be suspended in his favour; that if any one thrusts his hand into the fire he will be burned, or if he take a sufficient quantity of deadly poison he must die. No person in his senses imagines for a moment that he can violate any natural law and escape the consequences. We should remember

that in the moral and spiritual worlds we have fixed and unchangeable laws-laws which are operating not less uniformly, not less certainly than those natural laws to which we have referred. And yet we find men, by repute reasonable, who would never think of reversing or offering resistance to a law of material nature, violating, setting at naught these moral and spiritual laws, and then, perhaps, thinking themselves hardly used because they have to endure the consequences of their folly and disobedience.

The prophet is here denouncing and pointing out the unreasonableness of such inconsistency in the case of these Israelites. You would not, he says, attempt to drive horses up a steep cliff. You would not yoke oxen to the plough with the idea of breaking up and pulverising the hard rock. You would regard any such attempt as absurd, as unreasonable; and yet you violate and bid defiance to the great laws of morality; you turn judgment into gall, and the fruit of righteousness into hemlock, and think that in doing so you can continue to enjoy prosperity and escape the punishment with which God has declared that He will visit sin.

Nothing is more unmistakably set forth in God's Word than that sin and suffering are inseparably connected; and what God has joined together He will allow no man to put asunder.

The great lesson, then, which we are here taught is this that we may just as reasonably expect to drive horses up a steep cliff, or break up and pulverise the hard rock with a plough drawn by oxen a thing plainly impossible and impracticable as to do wrong, violate the eternal and immutable laws of morality, and attain to prosperity, or escape punishment in so doing.

Of all man's primary and instinctive beliefs there is perhaps none which more unmistakably and universally asserts itself than this-that retribution of some kind will sooner or later overtake all wrongdoing. This principle, which we may regard as one of the irreversible laws of God's universe, is, we have reason to believe, always and ever working. We are taught in God's Word, what we may learn from observation of God's providence-that the man who pursues a wrong and sinful course, who orders his life in a manner which is unworthy of his high calling as an immortal being, will find out that there is such a thing as divine justice even in this world. more perfect adjustment of the balance than many imagine. It would not be too much to say that every sin is followed by some measure of chastisement here, which is the earnest of that more terrible judgment with which sin shall be visited hereafter. We are too much in the habit of regarding the punishment with which God visits sin as an arbitrary infliction, something reaching the sinner from without;

whereas, the most terrible consequence of sin is the wrong, the injury which it inflicts on a man's own nature, the mischief which it works within him. To remember this will save us from many mistakes. We see a man pursue a wrong course-choose the way of unrighteousness-he gains wealth, perhaps honour; he is regarded as a successful man; wrong-doing, according to a worldly estimate, has exalted itself. But shall we therefore conclude that that man escapes retribution in this world? No. He has succeeded in acquiring possessions that he cannot retain, and surrounding himself with the means of enjoyment while the power of enjoyment is dying out within him; but he finds that a sinful, sensual, worldly life is its own punishment. The most fearful result of sin is seen in that work of deterioration which is silently but certainly going on in many whose worldly career is one of self-indulgence and heartlessness, it is seen in their ever-deepening insensibility, under the influence of which they become deaf to every divine and heavenly voice, blind to all the beauties of holiness, and weaned from all desire for anything which is not of the earth earthy. Besides these moral and spiritual results, of which we think too little, there is, of course, closely following upon many forms of wrong-doing, a visible and terrible retribution. Let a man be improvident, extravagant, idle, procrastinating, and by yielding to these evil, we may call them vicious inclinations, he finds that he has to endure certain retributive consequences. He violates God's order; he must pay the penalty. So if a man be intemperate, profligate, dishonest, punishment will sooner or later overtake him, even in this world. We must remember that sin, wrong-doing, where it is not followed by any visible retribution such as would engage the world's attention, is often followed by a long train of penal consequences, of which the sinner himself is conscious as both debasing and embittering his life. But besides these present consequences of wrong-doing, man is taught by God's word, and by his own conscience, to look forward to more complete retribution in the world to come. The irregularities and inequalities of which men complain here, are for the most part apparent rather than real; but there will be, in the last great day of account, no appearance of inequality, every man shall receive according to the deeds done in his body, whether they be good or bad. With what unbounded gratitude, then, should we bethink ourselves of that proclamation of mercy"God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish!" Yes, in judgment He remembereth mercy; and the repentant sinner shall not turn in vain to Him who was bruised for our transgressions, and by whose stripes we are healed.

From him of course, we learned what followed, and he and Squire Hardman told it to us over and over again.

At the close of the third or fourth day of their stay in town, the Squire took the boys into a restaurant, where, having given their names and ordered dinner, he left them for a short time, as he had to see a person on business in the neighbourhood. He engaged to return to them as quickly as possible. As Leopold and the young Hardmans entered, an old gentleman with a very bald head had just taken his seat at an opposite table, and presently a waiter appeared and set a plate before the latter.

"How is this?" exclaimed the gentleman, as it was uncovered. "This is steak; I ordered chop." "Beg pardon, sir," said the waiter; "I know you well for Mr. Wyld, sir. There can be no mistake."

"But there is a mistake!" persisted the old gentleman, his wrath rising in a sudden gust (people are generally very cross when they are hungry); "I ordered chop."

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Ain't you Mr. Wyld, sir?" inquired the waiter. "Certainly, sir!" was the sharp retort; "and I ordered chop!"

Here another waiter entered, and placed before my brother a tempting chop.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said Leopold, in his turn; "may I interfere? That steak may have been ordered for me; my name is Wyld."

I am sure my brother looked very handsome at that moment. Though reared, I may say, in the country, he inherited our mother's ease of manner, and possessed no small amount of self-confidence ;

this, together with his good looks, bore him with flying colours through every difficulty.

The old gentleman surveyed him steadily.

"Your name is Wyld," he said; and, without another word, began to eat his dinner in silence. "Your name is Wyld," he repeated when he had, I suppose, satisfied the cravings of hunger; but Leopold, whose appetite was not so easily appeased, answered, thickly

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"No, sir," replied the Squire, with native courtesy, 'merely a young friend and-ha-ha-neighbour, who has come to town with me on this occasion." "From shire?"

"Yes," returned the Squire.

"He has been very polite to me," said the stranger. "I thought some of these fellows had made a mistake in serving me; but he discovered that my plate was intended for him and his for me, our names being the same. Not only similar, sir," added the old gentleman, with some asperity, "but precisely the same. There is my card, sir; and if you will allow your young charge to call at my place of business between the hours of ten and three, I shall be glad to see him."

And with a stiff bow, which he evidently in