"As a bird that wandereth from her nest, so is a man that wandereth from his place. Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart; so doth the sweetness of a man's friend by hearty counsel. Thine own friend, and thy father's friend, forsake not; neither go into thy brother's house in the day of thy calamity: for better is a neighbour that is near than a brother far off."
On the first reading of the eighth verse it appears a mere truism. Here are two wanderers. The bird is a wanderer; the man is a wanderer. But surely this cannot be all that is meant. Whatever be understood as meant by a man's "place"-the comparison cannot, most assuredly, consist in the mere fact of wandering. There is a manifestly intended reference to the pernicious results in the two cases respectively;-of the straying of the bird "from its nest," and the absence of the man "from his place."
And again:-the "nest" might be regarded as, to the bird itself, the place of rest, repose, tranquillity, comfort, safety. But, although, in this view, there might be points of comparison instituted perfectly just and sufficiently appropriate; it is not, I apprehend, to considerations of this description-considerations of personal ease and convenience and security to the man himself, that the comparison is intended to apply. The nest is, no doubt, a place of warmth, and retirement, of comfort, and safety to the bird, yet it should be borne in mind that these are not the ends for which the nest is built. No bird sets about constructing a nest, as a mere dwelling for itself,-to which it may retire, when fatigued by flight, and lie upon down, and enjoy itself in peaceful and luxurious ease. The nest is built, on the impulse of the wonderful instincts of nature,-instincts implanted by Him, of whom the simple bird knows nothing, but whom those instincts should teach us to adore,-for very different purposes. The nest is the place where the eggs are to be laid; where they are to be warmed and quickened into life; and where the young unfledged progeny are to be lodged, and fed, and protected, and trained to their maturity. Now, in such a comparison as this, we cannot but suppose there is a reference to the purposes for which the nest is constructed. The allusion is doubtless to the period of incubation-to the hatching of the eggs, and the rearing of the young. If the bird "wanders from her nest" during that period, what is the consequence? Why, that the process is frustrated:-the eggs lose their vital warmth; they become cold, addled, and unproductive. Absence, even for a very short time, will produce this effect; and produce it to such a degree, that no subsequent sitting, however constant and prolonged, can ever vivify again the extinct principle of vitality. And then, during the period of early training, when the young are dependent on the brooding breast and wing of the parent bird for their warmth, and on the active quickness of the parent bird, as their purveyor, for their sustenance,-desertion is death. If the mother then "wanders from her nest," forsaking for any length of time her callow brood-they perish, the hapless victims of a mother's neglect. They are starved of cold, or they are starved of hunger; or, it may be, their secret retreat is found out by some devouring foe.
Such appears to be the apt allusion. Let us now consider to what cases it may with truth and profit be applied.
1. In the first place then, I apply it to a man's Home. Home may surely be regarded as most appropriately designated "his place." It is there he ought to be; not merely enjoying comfort, but imparting it;-not the place of selfish ease and indulgence, but of dutiful and useful occupation. He has a charge there,-committed to him, not by the instincts of nature merely, but by the law of God. His family demand his first interest and his first attention. His fond caresses and endearing smiles are to teach them the reciprocations of love; his counsels, instructions, admonitions, and encouragements, are to form their minds for the usefulness of future life; his example is to confirm what his precepts inculcate; and Ids active industry is to provide for their wants and their comfort. The man who is never easy at home; never settled in the very place of which settlement is the characteristic distinction; who is ever restless, and eager to roam; who is abroad only at home, and at home only abroad, and fancying he will be better elsewhere;-that man is a poor miserable creature himself; it is not in the nature of things that he can carry happiness with him anywhere. And alas! for the rising family of such a wanderer,-so unnatural an absentee from the place which of all others has a title to his presence. Nothing can go well at home, when the heads of the family do not find it the place of mutual rest and comfort, of social delight and useful occupation, and fond attachment, and common cares and common joys. Their rising offspring are neglected-neglected not only in what regards their external provision and comfort, but especially in the most important of all points-the early culture of their minds and hearts. If others than their restless, home-sick, wandering parents care not for them, it is a poor time they have of it, and a poor prospect in looking forward. I have said the heads of the family:-for although the text speaks of "the man that wandereth from his place," the spirit of the proverb applies, alike truly and alike forcibly, to both. An idle, roaming, gadding, gossipping mother, is indeed, in respect of the mischief produced by such a course to her family, fitly compared to the hen bird that leaves its nest,-its eggs to addle, its offspring to starve! The mother who is a stranger at home was never meant by nature to be a mother. She is an anomaly in the animal creation. And they who give her any encouragement and countenance in her restless rovings, give her encouragement and countenance in what the word of God, in the very severest terms, censures and reprobates.
Do not push my similitude too far, and suppose that I am condemning under it all going from home. It would be foolish to say that a man must never choose a calling that requires his occasional absence from the domestic circle. But such absence on business may be aptly likened to the short but necessary absences of the parent-bird from its nest, when her object is the provision of food for her young. Her leaving the nest becomes, after a certain period, as indispensable as her keeping it. Were she to remain always in it her brood would starve, as effectually as if she remained always out of it. But in such absences, her flight is rapid, and her return quick;-the absence no longer than is absolutely necessary for effecting her purpose, providing sustenance for the nurslings of her instinctive care. The nest is still her home. So should it be with every parent; and so will it be with every dutiful parent, to the utmost extent attainable.
2. I apply the proverb to the SITUATION IN LIFE which has been assigned to a man by Providence. A change may, in some cases, be not only warrantable but imperative. It may be so constrained by circumstances as to be itself as really an act of obedience to providential intimation, as it had been to enter on the situation relinquished. The words of our text are intended to repress a fickle, mutable, roving tendency of mind in regard to a man's employment. The disposition to such change should not be indulged. There are men who are ever after something new. They enter on a situation with all the eagerness of sanguine anticipation, and with the full assurance and purpose of its being permanent. But they quickly tire of it. They find it does not suit them. There is that about it they don't quite like. They get dull and disheartened, and wish a change. They make the change; and O how pleased they are! But it is still only for a time. The same weariness, and itching for change recurs. Now the man who is thus fitful and unsettled, ever dissatisfied, and ever "wandering from his place," is not very likely to prosper. How can he? No business gets a fair trial. He quits it before there bas been time for it to assume a matured form, or to work itself into a course of steady prosperity. He is like the bird that gets impatient of her incubation, and gives not the time required by nature for the eggs to quicken and mature,-or for her brood, when hatched, to arrive at the time when they may shift for themselves: or like a bird (could we fancy such a thing) that should spend her spring and summer, in going about from place to place, building nests, and leaving them as soon as built!-We may, with equal propriety and force, apply the proverb to fits and starts of labour in the situation a man continues to fill. He ought to keep steadily to his occupation while he is in it. No man's business can prosper otherwise. It will be as unproductive as the incubation of the wandering bird.
And allow me especially to observe, that this steadfast application is indispensable in the case of the man whose occupation is in the service of another. In such a case, it is required by faithfulness and integrity. He who is thus engaged is not at liberty to leave his engagements at his own option. It is his incumbent duty to be at his post. His time is not his own. It is a sad thing when any Christian gives his employer occasion to say of him that he "wanders from his place,"-that he does not mind his proper business; that he is never sure of being found where he ought to be. As the brooding bird should be found upon her eggs, or with her young, so should every servant, in every department, be found in his own place, and at his own occupation. It should be the aim of every man to have it said of him with truth-tell me where he ought to be, and I will tell you where he is.
3. I wish to apply the words to the SANCTUARY OF GOD. I think they may be so applied with perfect appropriateness. Every Christian must delight in God's sanctuary. It is to him, as a worshipper of God, "his place;"-the place where, at stated times, he ought to be, and where he chooses, and desires, and loves to be. How frequently, how strongly, how beautifully, does the Psalmist express this feeling!-and on one occasion with an exquisitely touching allusion to those birds of the air, that built their nests in the vicinity of the temple; and which,-when banished from Jerusalem and kept at a distance from the sacred precincts,-he represents himself as envying-coveting their proximity to the altars of Jehovah.* When he thus "wandered from his place," it was not by his own choice. His heart was there. All his desires, all his affections were there. Thither they ever pointed, like the disturbed needle, still, in all its vibrations, settling towards the pole. That is the point of its magnetic attraction; and so is the sanctuary to the soul of the child of God. On the hallowed day of sacred rest, this is "his place." Here will he be found, "beholding the beauty of the Lord and inquiring in his temple." The business of religion,-the concerns of the soul, will not thrive, if a man be ever "wandering from his place," any more than the business of the world and the concerns of this life.
* Psa_84:1-4.
Now, brethren, to speak plainly, I wish to be understood at present as meaning, not merely that you should, on the Lord's day, be in the sanctuary-that is, in some place of worship; but that you should, as regularly as possible, be in your own place of worship. Every member of a Christian church has his own place; and there, generally speaking, he ought to be found. This is seemly. The practice of wandering from place to place indicates a want of stayedness of mind,-a kind of spiritual gossipping,-fondness for variety, and novelty, and change-"itching ears." It looks like treating the house of God rather as a place of intellectual or spiritual entertainment, than of serious devotion and divine instruction.
"Were the system of wandering really a profitable one, I should grant that the text did not admit of a just application to it; for the wandering of which the text speaks is one that is prejudicial and destructive. But in this respect the application is strong. A desultory and ever-changing system of hearing,-one sermon here and another there,-one minister this Sabbath and another the next,-will never be at all so profitable as a regular continuous course of sabbatical instruction. Besides, those who have chosen their own "pastors and teachers," should feel it their duty to encourage them. Few things, you must be well aware, can be more discouraging to a pastor than when hearers, and more especially any of his own flock, are thus unsteady. It unavoidably gives him the impression of dissatisfaction on the part of these absentees-these wandering spirits. He sighs over the apprehension,-not that he fails to please merely-that were little-but that he fails to interest and to edify. And it may not seldom happen, that, when he has been at special pains with a particular subject, which he has conceived to be needful for a particular class of his hearers,-he sees, to his mortification and regret, that the very individuals perhaps to whose character, or case, or circumstances, the discourse was peculiarly adapted, are not present! They have "wandered from their place:"-and thus the double evil is produced, of their losing the benefit, and his losing the satisfaction of imparting it, and one of the objects that stimulated his mind in study, and animated him in the prospect of the Lord's day service. His affectionate faithfulness misses its principal aim.
Some of you may probably have been thinking with yourselves, that while I have been speaking of the duty of the Christian people, there is no individual to whom, in the churches of Christ, the words of the text are more directly and strongly applicable, than the pastor himself. I grant it. It is unquestionably the duty of those who have the stated instruction of the brethren intrusted to them, not to be wanderers from their respective places. Their own charges ought to be their constant care. Yet the people should beware of unreasonable extremes. "While it cannot but be a gratification and an encouragement to a pastor to know that his people do not wish him away,-still they should remember that, while their own churches are their primary charges, pastors still may have duties beyond them,-duties connected with. the general interests and prosperity of the denomination of Christians to which they belong, and, what is still more important, of the cause of Christ in general. On this account, he should not be regarded as "wandering from his place," when ends of this description are connected in any way with his absence. He is in his place; just where he ought to be:-and his brethren, instead of murmuring, should approve and encourage. There is another consideration which may be pleaded; that an occasional absence may prove conducive to that health and vigour that are necessary to the efficient fulfilment of their home labours,-and that the sight and intercourse of other pastors, and other churches, tends to impart not only a pleasing and profitable spiritual excitement, but also information, and experience, and enlargement of mind and heart, that are eminently conducive to the same end; and thus good for their people as well as for themselves. They should not, therefore, on every occasion of absence, be compared to the "bird that wanders from her nest" in brooding time; but rather to the same bird, when it wings its way, fleetly and briefly, to cater for its own. If the pastor is, in body and mind, the better for his absence, so are his people proportionally benefited. In serving others, he serves them.
Allow me here to put in a word in behalf of young preachers of the gospel. Nothing ought to be a source of greater pleasure to the hearts of the people of God, than to see youthful piety consecrating itself to the service of the sanctuary, and of the truth and kingdom of the Redeemer;-the Timothys,-the rising hopes of the church and cause of God. Under this impression, it should be their anxiety to hail their appearance, to encourage them, to cheer them on in their course, making every allowance for early imperfections, receiving their instructions with affectionate candour, and showing them all the countenance in their power. I cannot but look upon it as unkind, selfish, and sinful, to discourage the hearts and weaken the hands of youthful ministers and preachers, by "wandering from your place" when they are expected to officiate. Tell me not of the duty of attending to your own edification. I grant the duty. But if there is an humble frame, and a real, spiritual, lowly desire to be edified, you will rarely miss it, in some degree or other. And should the degree at times be small, forget nut that the wrong you do to others by your absence may be much greater than the negative wrong you do to yourselves by your presence:-and, having myself, in my day, known by experience the feelings of a young beginner in the service, I cherish for them a kindly sympathy, and plead for them with a corresponding earnestness.
Besides, brethren, you must not forget, that it is not merely to hear sermon that you come to God's house,-your place on His holy day. You come to hold fellowship with His people in all the social exercises of devotion. You come to remember and celebrate along with them the dying love and the triumphant resurrection of the "Lord of glory." It is becoming and desirable, that you should be found, as regularly as possible, doing this in company with those in whose communion you have, from principle, felt it your duty to unite.
I may be permitted to make a special reference to the ordinance of the Lord's supper. O why should any, on that interesting occasion, be found "wandering from their place." That it is where they ought to be the authority of the New Testament determines, and their own professions admit. Truly, when they thus absent themselves, may they be likened to the "bird that wandereth from her nest." They lose benefit to themselves, and they inflict injury upon others. They deprive their fellow-believers of a part of the benefit as well as delight of the social commemoration of their common Lord, and the united and cheering anticipation of his second coming; and they thus so far contribute to dishearten and weaken them by depressing in their bosoms that "joy of the Lord which is their strength;" as well as distract their minds by painful misgivings and fears. Like the swallows or the ring-doves, then, that found their nest at the altars of God, be you there from Sabbath to Sabbath, duly as the day returns, unless when necessarily prevented. Eat and drink there of the provision made for you; and assure your own and each other's hearts before your Lord, in the joint remembrance and celebration of His love. "Wander not from your place."
Brethren, there is one place to which you have come for safety and for happiness. That place is Calvary. It is your place, as believing sinners. O wander not thence. You will then indeed be "as a bird wandering from its nest." Beyond the sacred precincts of that holy mount,-the mount on which "the Lamb of God took away the sin of the world,"-all is danger, all is ruin.
Verse Pro_27:9. "Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart; so doth the sweetness of a man's friend by hearty counsel."-This verse does not seem to be very happily rendered, although the sense may be considered as substantially given. The Vulgate Latin has it-" The heart is refreshed by ointments and perfumes; and the soul is soothed by the good counsels of a friend." Another version has-"Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart; so doth the counsel of a man's friend sweeten the soul." The comparison is, plainly, that of the influence of good counsel, kindly administered, upon the mind, to the refreshing and cheering effect of the fragrance of rich perfumes upon the sense and upon the spirit. This is especially felt in times of trouble and in seasons of difficulty and perplexity. When the heart is heavy and depressed, and the mind troubled with conflicting and distracting thoughts,-how soothing is the salutary counsel of a judicious and affectionate friend!-how does it sweeten the embittered, and settle the agitated spirit! Such was the effect of the sound and divinely approved counsel of Jethro upon the spirit of Moses, when overburdened and oppressed with the multitudinous cares of his office as judge of Israel:-and such the effect of the counsel of Jonathan to David,-the counsel of a friend that "loved him as his own soul,"-when he was harassed and kept in dread of his life by the persecuting malice and envy of the frantic Saul:-he "strengthened his hands in God," and set his heart at rest, O! that friendship and its hearty counsel were sweet indeed, amid the bitterness of David's outcast condition!
Surely, we may apply the comparison, in all its emphasis, to the counsel that directs the awakened and alarmed sinner,-whose spirit is pricked and embittered by a sense of sin, and whose heart sinks within him under the apprehension of impending wrath,-to the grace of the gospel-to the cross,-to the way of salvation,-to the rich and free mercy of a covenant God in Christ! What ointment and perfume can diffuse so sweet and soothing a fragrance, as that counsel diffuses, through the believing soul! O my friends, this is truly of all counsel the best. The counsel that brings the troubled sinner to Christ and to God,-that introduces into his heart a sense of pardoning mercy and paternal love, is indeed "as ointment poured forth!" It imparts to the soul an unceasing source of comfort and joy.-And such too is the counsel that sends the desponding believer back to the same simple and blessed truth that gave him peace and joy at first. Not, indeed, if his despondency is the effect of indulged sin, and that sin unrepented of and unforsaken. To speak of grace to such a man would only be to add to his delusion, and ultimately to augment the bitterness and oppression of his spirit. It is false friendship indeed; as false as the pretended friendship of the father of lies, when, under promise of an increase of blessing, he tempted to the deed which brought the curse.
We take the two parts of the following verse distinctly-"Thine own friend, and thy father's friend, forsake not." Forsake not, that is, a friend that has "shown himself friendly" both to thy father and to thyself for his sake:-a steadfast, unswerving friend; one who maintains his affection to the living, as he did to the dead. This is parallel to the "friend that sticketh closer than a brother." Such a friend, principled, steady, and self-denying, is indeed a treasure,-not to be parted with on trifling grounds, but to be kept with care as we would guard a precious jewel. In the designation there is a double bond of attachment:-"Thy own-and thy father's friend." There is the twofold appeal to gratitude and to filial affection. And when that affection has been enshrined and hallowed by the death of the parent, all the sacredness that attaches to a parent's dust and a parent's memory comes to be associated with the friendship of which he was the object when living. To forsake such a friend becomes thus a kind of sacrilegious violation of the claims of filial devotedness and duty.
"Forsake him not." Forsake him not in his time of need. To forsake him then would justly stamp your character with an indelible stigma of ungrateful baseness. Forsake him not, by neglecting and undervaluing his counsel; and forsake him not by declining his kind offices. To a truly generous spirit, there are not many things more hurting-more deeply and tenderly wounding, than this. Even if we should see good cause for declining to accept what we are not satisfied would be really beneficial-even then, the intended kindness should be declined with grateful acknowledgments, and gentle unwillingness to offend. And to refuse the proffered services of such a friend, when he is desirous to serve us as he did our fathers,-to tell him in effect that we can do without him and will dispense with his interference,-is to inflict a wound that may go deep and rankle long,-not, it may be, resentfully, but in the spirit of mortified kindness, that has intended and attempted good, but has been slighted. And forsake him not, on your rising yourselves in life;-on your mounting, it may be, to a higher level in society, than that which he and your father before you occupied. It may not be in your power to raise him with you. But it were sadly wrong, and unworthy of correct principle and right feeling, so to leave him beneath you, as to forget him and let him feel that he is forgotten,-to allow his kindnesses to slip from memory, and to decline recognizing him, as now below your status in life.
"Neither go into thy brother's house in the day of thy calamity." This has certainly the appearance of a very strange advice. "Whither, in the day of our calamity, should we go, if not to the house of a brother? Where are we to expect a kind reception, and the comfort we require, if not there? But the proverb, like all others, must be understood generally, and applied in the circumstances and the sense obviously and mainly designed. The meaning seems to be-either:-1. Do not choose "the day of thy calamity" for making thy visit, if thou hast not shown the same inclination to court and cultivate intimacy before, in the day of thy success and prosperity. This unavoidably looks not like the impulse of affection, but of felt necessity, or convenience and self-interest:-"Ay, ay," your brother will be naturally apt to say, "I saw little of you before: you are fain to come to me now, when you feel your need of me, and fancy I may be of some service to you." Or-2. Let not sympathy be forced and extorted. "In the day of thy calamity," if thy brother has the heart of a brother, and really feels for thee, he will come to thee; he will seek and find thee. If he does not,-then do not press yourself upon his notice, as if you would constrain and oblige him to be kind. This may, and probably will, have the effect of disgusting and alienating him, rather than gaining his love. Love and sympathy must be unconstrained as well as unbought. When they are either got by a bribe, or got by dint of urgent solicitation, they are alike heartless, and alike worthless. The reason is-
"For better is a. neighbour that is near, than a brother far off." The antithetical phrases "at hand" and "far off"-have evident reference here, not to locality, but to disposition. A friendly and kindly disposed neighbour, who bears no relation to us save that of neighbourhood, is greatly preferable to a brother,-to any near relation whatever that is cold, distant, and alienated.
Even natural affection requires to be exercised with discretion. When appealed to injudiciously-at improper times-in improper circumstances, and with improper frequency-it may be cooled-it may be lost-it may be turned to dislike. On the other hand, however, there is a danger of a selfish exclusion of a brother "in the day of his calamity," as well as of a selfish solicitation on such a brother's part;-and against that tendency we have reason to be guarded, as well its against thp other.
