"Wherefore is there a price in the hand of a fool to get wisdom, seeing he hath no heart to it? A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity. A man void of understanding striketh hands, and becometh surety in the presence of his friend. He loveth transgression that loveth strife; and he that exalteth his gate seeketh destruction. He that hath a froward heart findeth no good; and he that hath a perverse tongue falleth into mischief."
Wisdom is frequently pronounced to be inestimably precious-a good for which no price can be found. What, then, can be meant by "a price to get wisdom?" By some another turn-but, as seems to me, a turn far from natural,-has been given to the sentence:-"Of what avail are the rich fool's riches to him, since he has not a heart to get wisdom by means of them?" The sentiment thus expressed is true; but it is no more than a branch of the more general sentiment conveyed by the words; one form-one variety only, of the evil. We understand the term "a price" as signifying, whatever puts it in any one's power to acquire the particular object. The phraseology is borrowed from the market. Any article, we are wont to say, may be had there, if a man has but the price to pay for it. What the "price" is to the article wanted, the means of acquiring are to "wisdom." When we wish to put any article of ordinary merchandise within a person's power, we furnish that person with the price at which it is valued. There are cases, however, in which this may not be enough. The price may be in a man's hand, and yet the article may not be within his reach-not, at the time, to be had. Happily, it is never so with the wisdom here spoken of. If the means are possessed of acquiring it, it may always be acquired. It is in the hand of God himself; and He is never either at a distance that we cannot repair to him; or unwilling to bestow it upon us, when we come to him for it-bestow it I say; for we must remember, with regard to divine wisdom, that "in a literal sense, it cannot be purchased. It must be had "without money and without price." It is not to be "gotten for gold."*
* See Isa_55:1. There is a contradiction in the idea of buying "without money." The word has been rendered more generally, procure. The original term is used to denote what is usually effected by means of a price in money. And such is the case here.-(Author).
Why is it, then, that in so many cases in which "the price is in the hand to get wisdom"-the means of securing it possessed-its lessons remain unlearned, the mind ignorant, the heart unimproved? Whence the sadly prevailing deficiency, and oven destitution, in the knowledge of the very simplest elements of divine truth? Whence is it that we find the ideas of so many minds so strangely crude, superficial, and confused? How comes this to be so frequently the case, even where all means and opportunities have been fully and long enjoyed?-where there has been early tuition; where the word has been in the house and in the hand, and the ministrations of it in the ear for many years of Sabbaths?-Here is the answer-the only one that can with truth be given,-there has been "no heart to it."-The principle is of wide application, and might be largely illustrated.
Why, for example, is not the knowledge of God learned by the heathen themselves from the volume of nature?-or rather, how has it been that they have not retained the knowledge originally possessed, though surrounded, in creation, with all that is fitted to keep them in mind of it? The apostle answers the enquiry-" They did not like to retain God in their knowledge." In other words, they had "no heart to it." "Why were the Jews, with all their superior means of knowledge-possessing, as they did, God's "lively oracles"-many of them-ay, the large majority, so miserably ignorant of the character of their own Jehovah? Why? because they had "no heart to it"-the inclinations of their minds lay to the idolatrous follies of the surrounding nations. Why "forsook they the fountain of living water, and hewed out unto themselves broken cisterns which could hold no water?" The answer is the same, they "had no heart to it."
There is no maxim more thoroughly established by experience, than that a man cannot excel in anything to which his heart does not lie. When do men succeed best in the pursuit of any object? Is it not when they have a heart to it? What is it that keeps all men astir in the pursuit and acquisition of wealth?-Is it not that they have a heart to it? How do men acquire celebrity in any of the departments of science or of art? Is it not when they have a heart to it?-some measure of enthusiastic eagerness and persevering delight in the pursuit?-My young hearers know well, that they acquire most readily, and attain to the greatest proficiency in, those branches of knowledge to which they have most heart--which are most congenial to their inclinations,-to the taste and bent of their minds. You then set about it in earnest; you prosecute it with energy and perseverance; you let no difficulties deter you, nor cease application till you have mastered them:-it is your pleasure, and success in it becomes your distinction. If you "have no heart to it," the work is all up hill; you begin it with reluctance; you yawn and nod over it; you are pleased with every little apology for neglecting or shortening your lesson; your knowledge is partial and superficial; and you quickly let slip the little you have learned.
The lessons of the Bible,-those of them especially which it is of most importance to know, and which are the most essential elements of true wisdom,-are far from being beyond the apprehension of any of your understandings. Why then-to bring the matter home-have you not an extensive acquaintance with these lessons, and with all the contents of the sacred volume?-its histories, its doctrines, its precepts, its promises, its prophecies, its devotional compositions? Is it not-speak the truth-because you "have no heart" to the study of the book that contains them? Can you, in conscience, assign any other reason for the difference between your attainments in this department of knowledge, and your attainments in others that are of a more secular and worldly, or merely literary and scientific, character,-than that you have less of interest in the one study than in the others-less pleasure in it-less heart to it?-Why is it that you do not cherish the fear and the love of God by the contemplation of those views of his character which He has, in his works and more especially in his word, revealed?-is not the reason the same-that you have no heart to it? This, the Bible tells you, is wisdom. But, although your judgment cannot refuse its assent-its constrained and reluctant assent-to the proposition, your heart goes not along with it. It is not the "wisdom of this world;" nor what the world will ever regard as a recommendation. It is not the wisdom, therefore, which you choose and which it gives you pleasure to think of acquiring. I put it to your consciences,-whether there be anything else whatever, that keeps you from the knowledge and the fear of God, wherein true religion consists-than your having no heart to them?-Talk not to me of inability:-your inability is entirely moral; and consists in nothing else whatever than your "having no heart" to that which is good. And is this not criminal? If not,-then is there no sin nor crime on earth, in hell, in the universe; nor is the existence or the conception of such a thing as moral evil possible. The want of heart to that which is good, is the very essence of all that is sinful. You offer anything but a valid excuse for your want of religion, when you say you "have no heart to it." You plead in excuse the very essence of your guilt. If you desired to fear God, and could not help the contrary, your inability might be something in your behalf. But the thing cannot be. To desire to fear God, and not to be able, is a contradiction in terms. The having of the desire is the having of the principle. There can be no desiring to fear without fearing; no desiring to love without loving. Would you admit it as an apology for a rebellious child, that he desired to love his father but could not?-Yes; there is one case in which the apology might stand-if there was nothing in the father that was lovely, but everything fitted to repel and to quench affection,-And will you venture to offer this plea in your case? If indeed you can make it out that there is no loveliness in God, your plea may stand!-If you can make it out that there is no beauty in Christ, why you should desire him,-then may your disaffection to him be excusable. But if in Christ and in God there is everything lovely, and that ought to be loved,-then your "having no heart to it" must be your guilt and condemnation. O what a hopeless task you would undertake, were you to plead the want of loveliness,-the absence of all that is amiable-in God and in Christ! Your own lips would condemn you. Give up your plea. Acknowledge your sinful alienation. Turn to Him who says-"Behold I will pour out my Spirit unto you:"-"Ask and ye shall receive:"-"A new heart will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you."
Verse Pro_17:17. "A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity." These words contain the just commendation of faithful constancy in friendship and brotherly affection.-A false and faithless friend professes great attachment-is the extreme of devotedness, when the object of it is in prosperity and honour, and when connexion with him is a credit and a benefit. But when the world ceases to smile upon him, when their plaudits are hushed, and their court is withdrawn-though without any cause in the forsaken and the fallen, whose character and deserts remain the same,-he cools, and skulks, and disowns him. When attachment is of service to himself he will gladly share all the good,-bask in the light of his countenance, make his favour a stepping-stone to his own advancement;-but when the evil day comes, and association with him ceases to be a credit and a benefit, he sheers off, and knows his dear, his valued, his esteemed, his excellent and honoured friend no more!-abandons him in the very hour-when the worth of true friendship is most deeply felt, and the sustaining and sweetening influences of its genial sympathy most keenly needed!-shakes himself loose at the very moment when he should stick fastest!-A genuine friend-the only friend worth having, and when found, of inestimable value,-is the same in all changes of condition; the same in every respect but one,-that his heart gets warmer to his friend as the world gets colder; he becomes the more a friend to him as other friends fail;-stands the more firmly by him, and avows his attachment the more openly and the more fervently, in proportion as, by the false and faithless, he is unworthily deserted. His attachment is to the man-not to his wealth or his honours; and if the man remain the same, no change of circumstances will lessen the ardour of his friendship.-Of such disinterested and steadfast friendship, we have a fine exemplification in the case of Jonathan and David. In opposition to a father's unreasonable and groundless jealousy, and at the sacrifice of his own interests and prospects as heir to the throne, did the faithful Jonathan cleave to David, through all his trials and dangers and shifting fortunes,-guarding him from harm; encouraging and cheering him in his difficulties; and clearing the way for his advancement, till he himself met his death on Mount Gilboa.-Other instances are on record in the pages of history;-and in a greater and less degree, in more private life, have the same principles of selfdenying and generous attachment-true even to death-been manifested.
"And a brother is born for adversity." Some would render the words-"And he" (i.e. the true friend) "is born to be a brother in adversity."-But more probably, as the previous part of the verse describes what a friend should be; the latter clause describes what a brother-or any near relation-should be.*
* "'A brother for adversity' is one who will act the part of a brother in a season of adversity. Of such an one it is said, he must or shall be born, (possibly) he is born. I do not understand this last clause, unless the assertion is, that none but such as are born brethren, i.e., kindred by blood, will cleave to us when in distress. Yet this is true only in a qualified sense. But another shade of meaning may be assigned to the passage; which is, that such a man as a friend in adversity, is yet to be born, i.e., none such are now to be found; thus making it substantially equivalent in sense to the expression: 'How few and rare are such faithful friends!'"-(Stuart).
Adversity is the time when affection is put to the proof. It is hardly at all tried among relatives, when all is going-well, and there is no call in providence for sacrifices on the part of any members of the domestic circle, in behalf of the others. But when, through unforeseen circumstances, privation and distress become the lot of any of them, then is the test of the sincerity and strength of natural affection. Brethren are born to help each other in need. This is the will and purpose of God in placing them in their near relationship. It is sad when this fails; and beautiful when it is displayed. It is not when Naomi "goes out full," but when "the Lord brings her home again empty," that the fond attachment of Ruth draws to the eye the tear of approving and delighted sympathy. It is in the reverses and fallen fortunes of his kinswoman-widowed, desolate, and dependent-that the fidelity and generosity of Boaz are brought out into conspicuous manifestation.-We shudder at the unnatural conduct of Joseph's brethren; while in Joseph himself-whether viewed in the providential arrangements of his history, or in his amiably pious and forgiving disposition,-we see "a brother born for adversity."
Verse Pro_17:18. "A man void of understanding striketh hands, and becometh surety in the presence of his friend." The sentiment of this verse appears as if suggested by the preceding.-It might naturally be asked-If "a friend loveth at all times," is not the time of his reduction of circumstances just one of those times of need when the sincerity of friendship is tested, and when the love is called for?-The answer is-Unquestionably. Solomon does not mean to say that in no case ought friendship thus to express itself. But he certainly does mean to say, that it should not be done in all cases; that it should not be done with reckless and inconsiderate hastiness. He does mean to say that there are other claims besides those of friendship, which even those of friendship must not exclude from consideration. There are some enthusiastic sentimentalists on the subject of friendship, who talk wildly and at random of its paramount claims. O! there is nothing that must be allowed to stand in the way of friendship:-everything must yield to it! They seem ready-in words at least, to sacrifice at its shrine all other claims of men whatsoever, and even the very claims of God himself. Now, right and amiable as the earnest desire to help a friend may be, we must beware of what may be termed the romance of friendship. Let as great sacrifices be made as self can bear, when self alone is implicated. But the extent of ability must be considered. Circumstances must be rationally weighed.
There are claims of family; there are claims of creditors and of partners in business; there are claims of the cause of God. Imperious as the claims of friendship may be, the claims of wife and children, and the claims of obvious justice, must not be disregarded and put out of account for them.-And then, in every case, it should be well considered, whether by our advances and suretiship the friend is, after all, ultimately and in the long run, to be benefited. He may think so. It may be quite clear to him. No doubt about it. But sanguine minds, under the pressure of immediate difficulty, are of all others the most in danger of imposing on themselves. And in such cases, when neutral eyes, seeing more clearly and further forward, discern the illusion and its cause;-painful as it may be to disappoint the eager wishes and confident anticipations of the friend who may be looking to you as his last resource, and assuring himself of your standing by him,-yet to go forward with the certainty, instead of ultimately doing him service, of only making bad worse, and involving yourself with him in common loss and ruin, would assuredly be a very mistaken exercise and evidence of friendliness.-And again, it may be remarked, friendship should be very cautious of pressing such claims,-of urging to such proofs of its sincerity. There is good ground for suspecting the soundness of the friendship, and for fearing there is in it too much of the selfish, when a man is very eager to draw his friend into such engagements.*
*On this subject see Pro_6:1-5.
Verse Pro_17:19. "He loveth transgression that loveth strife; and he that exalteth his gate seeketh destruction." The former of these propositions requires no proof. For, first, strife itself is transgression. "Wars and fightings come of our lusts which war in our members." The angry and resentful passions cannot be indulged without sin.-And, secondly, strife leads to transgression. It is the unfailing occasion of much evil-in temper, in word, and in action. If a man is desirous to bring himself and others into sin and suffering-into trespass and punishment,-he cannot accomplish the end more effectually than by fomenting contention. Strife at once springs from, and gives strength and exercise to, the principle from which all men's evil deeds and words against each other proceed-the opposite principle of love: love being the fulfilling of the law, and enmity its universal breach. Wisdom then and duty alike say, "Give place unto wrath."*
* Rom_13:8-10.
"And he that exalteth his gate seeketh destruction." Some take this for a comparison:-As surely as he that exalteth his gate (enlarging it out of due proportion) seeketh destruction to his house, by thus weakening its structure,-so surely does he that loveth strife generate transgression.
The phrase "exalteth his gate," however, instead of being thus understood literally, may, with more propriety, be interpreted of a man's ambitiously affecting a style of living beyond his income-disproportionate to the amount of his means of maintaining it. The general character is described by one particular manifestation of it-the high style of the exterior of his mansion. The "exalting of the gate" applies to the entire style of his household establishment-not to his dwelling merely, but to his equipage, his table, his servants, his dress, and every thing else.-He who does this "seeks destruction:" he courts his own downfall, as effectually as if it were his direct object to ruin himself. Matthew Henry, in his own quaint and pithy way, says-" He makes his gate so large, that his house and estate go out at it. "A man’s manner of life may, with perfect propriety, be proportioned to his circumstances; though a man of christian principle will rather keep within the allowable boundary than go beyond it-rather keep below than go above his means. But-,
1. A man sets out in high style upon little or no capital-desiring to get credit by giving the impression of abundance. The man who does this, acts not foolishly only, but falsely. It is an imposition-a practical lie. There is too much of this; too much of a departure from the soberminded prudence of our forefathers. If a young man, in ordinary station, sets up a domestic establishment, it must now be all at once in such style, that it presents a hindrance to many from entering into married life, and thus operates to the prevention of domestic habits, and to the fostering of dissipation and vice:-and at the same time, it embarrasses business at its outset, and exposes to many anxious fears, and many serious risks, which might, and ought to be shunned by the good old-fashioned way of beginning on a small scale and in a plain way, and working a gradual rise. This is the way of prudence and security:-the other is the way of speculation and hazard.
2. If a man of principle rises in his style of living as his means advance, he should, on a corresponding principle, cheerfully and proportionally, retrench on their decline. The contrary is another of the evils frequently to be seen in our day. A man is what the world calls unfortunate. He compounds with his creditors; and he lives on just as before; still "exalting his gate," still maintaining all the show and style of his former course, to the utter perplexity and amazement of simple and honest minds,-that can’t at all comprehend how it is that a man contrives to keep up on nothing-or on what they think, in their honest simplicity, ought to be nothing,-the same style of living that he maintained when his business prospered and his riches increased. The contrary is required by many considerations.-Submission to God requires it. The course described bears the aspect, and, it must be feared, is the reality, of rebellion against His providence.-Justice to men requires it. He who, in a reverse of circumstances, continues to keep up his full style of expenditure, neither acts like a Christian, nor like a man of common honesty. His first business is with his creditors; and his first aim, at every cost of self-denial, to pay them, what every honest man must wish to pay them, twenty shillings in the pound.-Peace of conscience requires it. How can a man, who has a remnant of sound principle left, enjoy himself, when he is "faring sumptuously every day" on money that belongs to others?-And let me add-a just regard to his own interest requires it. He who never comes down, or who does it, not spontaneously but by sheer and stem compulsion, takes the surest way to impair respect and to forfeit confidence and credit and reputation in business. He who, on his fall, gives all up, in the spirit of integrity and honour, commands universal esteem, secures trust, and produces in every rightly principled mind a desire to help him again forward, and promote his prosperity.
On the closing verse we need not dwell, as we have had the same sentiments frequently under review:* only let all mark afresh the assurance and ponder it well-" He that hath a froward heart findeth no good: and he that hath a perverse tongue falleth into mischief."
