"Boast not thyself of to-morrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth. Let another man praise thee, and not thine own mouth; a stranger, and not thine own lips. A stone is heavy, and the sand weighty; but a fool's wrath is heavier than them both. Wrath is cruel, and anger is outrageous; but who is able to stand before envy? Open rebuke is better than secret love. Faithful are the wounds of a friend: but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful. The full soul loatheth an honey-comb: but to the hungry soul every bitter thing is sweet."
There is often a marked and melancholy inconsistency between the admissions which men make and the course of conduct which they pursue. The uncertainty of life, and the uncertainty of the events of its successive days, who can possibly question? It is necessarily and universally granted. It has been the settled and traditionary maxim of all generations. Who contradicts the assertion-"Thou knowest not what a day may bring forth?" Yet, admitted as this is,-unquestioned since "by one man sin entered into the world and death by sin,"-men have, ever from that day, been "boasting themselves of to-morrow"-thinking confidently, talking confidently, and acting confidently, on the credit of to-morrow!-ay, and not seldom of much longer periods than to-morrow!
Of the uncertainty of life and of its enjoyments, how many solemn and touching lessons we receive! Among the first tidings I heard on my return home two days ago, was the sudden and affecting death of one of our number, who left his wife, the partner for twenty years of his joys and sorrows, in good health and cheerful spirits, to walk, and to bathe in the river; and, after but an hour or two of agonizing suspense beyond the wonted time of his return, the sad intelligence was borne to her that herself was a widow and her children fatherless! Distressing, but apt illustration of the words before us! O learn from them, and from such sad events, the fully of trusting to the certain continuance, even for a day, of life and of life's blessings, and let the admonition be taken home, in reference to life's duties. Let nothing be left till "to-morrow" that can be done and ought to be done, to-day,-"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither thou goest," Ecc_9:10. Thus let us "redeem the time,"-jealous of allowing one moment of it to slip, remembering especially that in matters which pertain to the well-being of others, there is unrighteousness as well as folly in such delay, and that in those which are connected with the glory of God and the interests of his cause there is impiety.
And I would anew press on all an earnest and affectionate caution against the most ruinous of all descriptions of procrastinating confidence in "to-morrow,"-the delay of attention to the concerns of the soul and a coming eternity. Not now, but by and by-is the prevailing maxim here;-a maxim which few pretend to justify, but on which the vast majority persist in acting;-a maxim, of which all grant the folly in words, and by the admission condemn their own practice. Alas! my friends, how many souls has this procrastination ruined! Many a time are the sad consequences of delay exemplified and felt in regard to the affairs of this world. And O that men would but apply the salutary principles on which such affairs ought to be conducted to the interests of the world to come! Yet how frequently may you hear a diligent, active, prudent man of business warn the young against the evil of procrastination, and address to them most admirable lessons for their conduct in life, yet himself acting on the very principle he condemns, respecting interests incomparably more momentous;-the very solicitude about the secular, one of the causes of procrastination as to the spiritual and eternal! How often may you see such a man-while he would not, in any one instance if he could help it, leave the value of a farthing to the contingencies of "to-morrow," putting off to all the uncertainty of days and years to come, and leaving to "the mercies of a moment" the happiness of an endless existence! Strange infatuation!-and the impiety is not less than the infatuation. With peril to men's selves, there is insult to God. It may be true, that many yesterdays are gone by, which were once "to-morrows"-and it has, in divine providence, so turned out, that your anticipations of them have not been disappointed. You have "boasted" of many of these "to-morrows," and they have still successively come;-and the very coming of one has tempted you to trust still more confidently for another. And yet you know-you know perfectly-that the past is no security for the future. You know, that, in multitudes of instances, the to-morrow to which others trusted has never arrived, and that in their case the trust has proved a delusion. You know, that in your own case, the "to-morrow" must come that is to be your last, and that is to close your mortal life. You know that the God of your life has an imperative claim upon you every successive day-a claim as imperative on your heart and your time and your powers to-day as it will be "to-morrow;" and that every to-day and every to-morrow which you allow to pass and to become a yesterday without having given it to Him, or done in it what He commands you to do-accepted His mercy and entered on His service,-carries with it a charge against you to the judgment-seat, and waits your arrival there as a witness against you. You know that delay only hardens evil principle, and gives the world the faster hold of you! You know all this-O then "be wise TO-DAY!"
Verse Pro_27:2. "Let another man praise thee, and not thine own mouth; a stranger, and not thine own lips." "Self-commendation," it has been said, "is the prerogative of Deity." When God reveals himself to His creatures, it cannot be otherwise, if the discovery be according to truth, than as the infinite concentration of all excellence-of all that is great and all that is good. And it must, at the same time, be, as the source to His creatures of all their joys, and to each one of His intelligent offspring the chief good.
The language before us implies that we should seek to possess the excellences that are fitted to commend us to favour, and so to draw forth the approbation of others; we ought to seek these qualities, not, as is too apt to be the case, for the sake of the praise they are likely to secure, but for their own sakes, and for the sake of what the apostle calls "commending ourselves unto God."
It must never be forgotten that all such passages imply the sincere and earnest cultivation of a real and divinely approved principle. The principle called for in this verse is that of true, self-diffident modesty. Considerations entirely different, and even opposite, may induce the suppression of self-praise:-even the very desire of praise from others. From this arises the danger of holding out-to the young especially-the motive or inducement of getting a character for modesty. This may produce artifice, affectation, simulation, hypocrisy. That which is wanted,-that which God approves and requires,-is honest simplicity, which neither, on the one hand, courts praise, nor, on the other, affects to disdain and undervalue it,-which neither blusters out its own commendation, nor whines and simpers, and depreciates, and makes light of what it is or of what it has done, merely for the purpose of making others say more. The affectation of despising the commendation of others is worse than the self-commendation that is reprehended. It is, in truth, the very same spirit showing itself under another aspect.
There may be occasions when a man not only may with propriety, but must in duty speak in self-commendation. He may be falsely accused,-reproached and vilified. Men may "say all manner of evil against him falsely," and "lay to his charge things that he knows not." The self-vindication which, in such circumstances, becomes incumbent upon him, for the sake of his profession and of his usefulness, must to a certain extent include self-commendation. But in these cases, the manner of it will show the motive and principle by which it is dictated.
Verse Pro_27:3. "A stone is heavy, and the sand weighty; but a fool's wrath is heavier than them both." Of the unprincipled or irreligious man, who is, at the same time, weak and not governed by reason or discretion, "the wrath" may be expected to be disproportionate, ungovernable, furious, destructive. The figure may be differently understood. It may be taken from the weight of a burden,-or, so far as the stone at least is concerned, from its coming down with mischievous violence on its hapless object. The anger even of a good man may at times go beyond due bounds, in degree and in its working and results;-as when David, in his rage against Nabal, threatened the destruction of all that pertained to him. But in general, the passions of the wise and good will be restrained and moderated by the operation of right principle,-by conscience towards God, and by the influence of God's truth. But "a fool's wrath!"-there is no telling to what extremes it may carry him, while the storm rages; or what mischief it may effect in its sudden and frantic transports. The mischief will be in proportion to his power of doing it.
Yet as the next verse indicates, there is a passion which, in Solomon's estimate, was still worse than uncontrolled anger. That-"cruel," "outrageous," and productive of serious damage, though it be, lasts not long. Like the violent tempest, it speedily spends itself; and by prudent, patient, conciliatory treatment it may be softened. "But who is able to stand before envy?" Envy is one of the most malignant principles in our apostate nature. It is the principle that grudges at the well-being of others. It is a stranger to all generosity of feeling. It differs, in this respect, from virtuous emulation. The latter is satisfied that others should keep, in the scale of prosperity or of honour, the point they have attained, while it strives to surpass and to rise above them. It indulges not the mean desire of gaining equality by the degradation of its rival, or seeks to bring that rival down to its own level by low and insidious arts. But envy is a stranger to honour. Let but the hated distinction be done away, it matters not to envy how,-whether by its own rise or by its rival's fall. Nay, it sighs for the latter quite as earnestly as it aspires at the former. It only "consults to cast down the object of it from his excellency;" and will condescend to the most despicable devices for the accomplishment of its purpose. The very considerations that would soften anger and resentment, tend to the increase of envy; because they procure for its object the greater share of approval and commendation. Even at the excellences by which these are obtained envy grudges; so that by the very means which would disarm wrath of its propensity to cruelty and outrage, you infuse fresh venom into the stings of envy; you promote the secretion of its virulent and deadly poison. It maybe remarked too that "anger" and "wrath," with their cruelty and outrageous violence, arc open as well as transient. We see them, and we can shun them. But envy mines in secret. It is ever sapping and working under ground. It perseveres in its perfidious occupation with a patience and assiduity worthy of a better principle and a better cause. And the mine may burst upon you, with destructive violence, ere ever you are aware of what it has been busily and darkly doing; and involve you in ruin without a moment's warning. This is envy's highest, sweetest, richest gratification. It gloats in delight over the successful result of its deeply laid and secretly prosecuted schemes. And yet, well is it designated "the rottenness of the bones." It is its own tormentor. It brings down its rival; but its very gratification is its misery. The very sympathy which that rival meets with torments it:-and itself becomes the object of contempt, desertion and loathing, and brings upon it the curses of mankind. "As the devil," it has been well remarked, "fell by his pride, so he wrought the fall of man by his envy:-and when envy takes possession of a man, it makes him a devil to his neighbours." The devil had no provocation from man:-and so the envious man works without provocation. The object of it does nothing to excite it,-and often has no suspicion of it till the effects of its hellish working come upon him. Who, therefore, can "stand before it?"-It was envy that murdered Abel, and dyed the earth with the first blood of innocence. It was envy that plotted against Joseph,-consulted to put him to death,-sold him into bondage,-dipped his hated vest in blood, and presented it to the eyes of his distracted parent,-thus slaying at once the fraternal and the filial affections in the bosoms of its subjects. It was envy that delivered up to condemnation and death the Lord of glory, the prince of life, the pattern of benevolence, and purity, and every divine and human excellence.-O! if we cannot help being its objects, let us beware of being its subjects. Let us cultivate every sentiment that is opposed to it; and, instead of grudging at the happiness, or the honour, or the excellence of others, delight in that generosity of heart which makes every stream of others' joy tributary to the river of our own pleasures!
Verse Pro_27:5. "Open rebuke is better than secret love." Our first enquiry here is,-What is the contrast, or antithesis, which Solomon, in this verse, intends?
It is not, I apprehend, between "open reproof" and love that is not real but only affected, and, assuming the garb and manner of what is real, flatters and imposes upon its object This could not, with propriety, be called "secret love." It is not love at all. It is professed love, but secret enmity, or at least secret indifference, making professions for ends of its own. "Secret love" is love which is indeed real, but which fails to speak out faithfully when it ought-when the good of its object calls for such fidelity; which shrinks from doing so because it is unwilling to inflict present pain; which thus connives at existing evils,-silently allowing them to pass, when they are such as ought to be noticed and reprehended. This is that false love, which really injures its object; and which, on this account,-that is, from its injurious tendency, how little soever designed, gets in the Scriptures the designation of hatred: "Thou shalt not hate thy brother in thine heart: thou shalt in any wise rebuke thy neighbour, and not suffer sin upon him," Lev_19:17. This is far worse than of no service. It is eminently prejudicial. It can never be a favour-unless under a fearful misapprehension of the term,-to have sin allowed to remain in us. Surely it is far better to be without the sin, than to be without the "rebuke." To remove sin ought to be regarded by every child of God as the highest aim, and the most desirable influence, of love. It is the highest aim of divine love. It is the end of that love in the whole mediation of Christ; and its end too in the entire administration of providence,-especially in all afflictive dispensations. These are divine rebukes; and they are every one of them corrective,-intended to make God's people "partakers of his holiness." "By this also shall the iniquity of Jacob be purged;" and "this is all the fruit, to take away sin."
It is to be feared, that there is often not a little of selfishness in the "secret love" which is here condemned. We shrink from rebuke, more on account of the unpleasantness and trouble of it to ourselves, than on account only of the pain to which it may put our neighbours. Two things are pre-supposed, however, in the verse; that the rebuke is really deserved; and that it be invariably administered in the right spirit-the spirit of love. The rebuke required must not only be open and faithful, but affectionate and humble, in order to its being effectual, and thus proving itself "better than secret love:"-for it is better not to rebuke at all, than to rebuke in a bad spirit.
Verse Pro_27:6. "Faithful are the wounds of a friend: but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful." The sentiment in this verse, though analogous to that in the fifth, is not the same.-By the process of probing and searching a wound or a sore, and by the subsequent process of cutting, a surgeon may subject a patient to great pain. But it is not because he has pleasure in putting to pain that he inflicts it; but because the health and strength of his patient, his qualifications both for action and enjoyment, perhaps his very life, depends upon his proceeding as he does. Thus his wounds are "faithful"-professionally faithful. Their design is not to inflict suffering, but to prevent and remove it. In the same way, friendly fidelity and reproof may give mental pain,-acute, severe pain. But the wounds, like those of the surgeon, are necessary, for spiritual health and strength and life,-or, it may be, according to the nature of the case, for temporal comfort and benefit. We have already remarked, that such is the design of our heavenly Father's corrections. His wounds are faithful. They are all in perfect harmony with the promises of His covenant, which are assurances of love. Faithfulness is an attribute of love, and love is an attribute of faithfulness. We can neither be faithful without loving; nor can we love without being faithful. And if we would be affectionately and truly faithful, we must at times wound;-always when there is sin to be reproved.
The antithesis to the faithful wounds of a friend is-"But the kisses of an enemy are deceitful." These are the kisses of one who feigns friendship. We had the character drawn at length in the preceding chapter:-verses Pro_26:23-26.
Seek you an evidence of the wounds of a friend? You have it in Nathan's faithful execution of his commission to David, when, after his sin in the matter of Uriah, he delivered to him the parable of the ewe-lamb, and then came home upon his slumbering conscience with the emphatic and pointed charge, "Thou art the man!" Would you know how deep and painful the wound which was thus inflicted? Read the fifty-first Psalm. See him there offering to the God whom he had offended the sacrifice of a broken spirit;-and hear him pleading for mercy, and deprecating divine rejection. Ah! the wound went deep. It inflamed and rankled. But how salutary! It was the faithful wounds of the Lord and his prophet that restored his soul, and brought him back to God and to the "joy of his salvation."
And for the kisses of an enemy, look at the conduct of Joab and of Judas-of Joab, when, taking Amasa by the beard to kiss him, he said, "Art thou in health, my brother?"-and "smote him under the fifth rib:"-of Judas, when he said to Jesus, "Hail, Master! and kissed him;" and with the same breath of faithless treachery, turning to the ruffian band-"Take him, and lead him away safely!"
Verse Pro_27:7. "The full soul loatheth an honey-comb: but to the hungry soul every bitter thing is sweet." Who has not experienced the truth of these words? When the appetite is fully satisfied, that which otherwise would be most relished, becomes nauseous, and is ordered away. An appetite too that has been pampered,-vitiated and cloyed by luxury and delicacy,-is seldom a good one. It has no taste for plain, wholesome, nourishing food; and even the dainties and factitious stimulants to which it has been accustomed lose their effect and leave it craving for something new.-Hunger, on the contrary, gives relish to every thing,-to the plainest, the most homely, and even the most unpleasant fare. What the nice and dainty epicure,-or the man of self-indulgence, would turn away from with disgust, is to the poor toil-worn labourer a meal of high enjoyment.
The manna in the wilderness was sweet; "like wafers mixed with honey:"-but the Israelites had plenty of it, and they got dissatisfied with it, and longed for variety,-"Our soul," said they, "loatheth this light bread-who will give us flesh to eat?" How different the feelings of the poor, starving prodigal, when "no man gave unto him," and "he was fain to fill his belly with the husks which the swine did eat!"
There is a general principle evidently involved in the proverb. It is this:-that value will be set upon any object, in proportion as the want of it is felt. And this principle applies, with full force, to spiritual as well as to temporal concerns. The proud and self-sufficient, who are full of themselves, and who feed on their self-flatteries, and feel no want, loathe even the rich provision of the gospel feast,-"the feast of fat things and wines on the lees, of wines on the lees well refined." They turn away from this heaven furnished table. There is no spiritual appetite. But when a poor sinner comes to be sensible of his own emptiness-his utter destitution of all that is good, of all that can satisfy his conscience and recommend him to God,-and begins to "hunger and thirst after righteousness," a righteousness which he has not in himself,-then nothing but the provision made by the gospel can satisfy his longing soul. And when he has accepted the free invitation to that feast,-to that open table,-he finds there the fulfilment of the assurance-"he shall be filled." And yet he comes to the experience that the viands there provided are such as never cloy the appetite; but only, the more abundantly they are taken, whet it the more. The fuller, the hungrier.
At the same time, in another sense, abundance is apt to engender nicety. We are in danger of thinking lightly of our spiritual enjoyments, and spiritual privileges, because we have them in so great plenty and variety,-and of becoming very particular and very nice as to the manner of their being prepared and served up to us. O the difference between this state of things and the eagerness with which little portions of the word of God are received, and occasional passing opportunities of hearing it valued, by those whose means are more stinted than ours! The man who has long fasted, and is starving of hunger, will not think much about the cooking, the seasoning, the dish, or the garnish. Let us "take heed to ourselves," that we do not cherish any such squeamish nicety,-any such spiritual epicurism,-as would blunt our relish for the plain and wholesome truths of the simple gospel. It is on this, after all, that the soul, in its spiritual powers and affections, must become strong; and by these must its vigour be maintained, and its growth in the divine life advanced.
