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Expositor's Bible Commentary Job 28:1 Surely there is a vein for the silver, and a place for gold where they fine it . XXIII. CHORAL INTERLUDE Job 28:1-28 THE controversy at length closed, the poet breaks into a chant of the quest of Wisdom. It can hardly be supposed to have been uttered or sung by Job. But if we may go so far as to imagine a chorus after the manner of the Greek dramas, this ode would fitly come as a choral descant reflecting on the vain attempts made alike by Job and by his friends to penetrate the secrets of Divine providence. How poor and unsatisfying is all that has been said. To fathom the purposes of the Most High, to trace through the dark shadows and entanglements of human life that unerring righteousness with which all events are ordered and overruled-how far was this above the sagacity of the speakers. Now and again true things have been said, now and again glimpses of that vindication of the good which should compensate for all their sufferings have brightened the controversy. But the reconciliation has not been found. The purposes of the Most High remain untraced. The poet is fully aware of this, aware even that on the ground of argument he is unable to work out the problem which he has opened. With an undertone of wistful sadness, remembering passages of his country’s poetry that ran in too joyous a strain, as if wisdom lay within the range of human ken, he suspends the action of the drama for a little to interpose this cry of limitation and unrest. There is no complaint that God keeps in his own hand sublime secrets of design. What is man that he should be discontented with his place and power? It is enough for him that the Great God rules in righteous sovereignty, gives him laws of conduct to be obeyed in reverence, shows him the evil he is to avoid, the good he is to follow. "The things of God knoweth no man, but the Spirit of God." Those who have a world to explore and use, the Almighty to adore! and trust, if they must seek after the secret of existence and ever feet themselves baffled in the endeavour, may still live nobly, bear patiently, find blessed life within the limit God has set. First the industry of man is depicted, that: search for the hidden things of the earth which is significant alike of the craving and ingenuity of the human mind. Surely there is a mine for silver And a place for gold which they refine. Iron is taken out of the earth, And copper is molten out of the stone. Man setteth an end to darkness, And searcheth, to the furthest bound, The stones of darkness and gloom. He breaks a shaft away from where men dwell; They are forgotten of the foot; Afar from men they hang and swing to and fro. The poet has seen, perhaps in Idumaea or in Midian where mines of copper and gold were wrought by the Egyptians, the various operations here described. Digging or quarrying, driving tunnels horizontally into the hills or sinking shafts in the valleys, letting themselves down by ropes from the edge of a cliff to reach the vein, then, suspended in mid air, hewing at the ore, the miners variously ply their craft. Away in remote gorges of the hills the pits they have dug remain abandoned, forgotten. The long winding passages they make seem to track to the utmost limit the stones of darkness, stones that are black with the richness of the ore. On the earth’s surface men till their fields, but the hidden treasures that lie below are more valuable than the harvest of maize or wheat. "As for the earth, out of it cometh bread; And from beneath it is turned up as by fire. The stones thereof are the place of sapphires, And it hath dust of gold." The reference to fire as an agent in turning up the earth appears to mark a volcanic district, but sapphires and gold are found either in alluvial soil or associated with gneiss and quartz. Perhaps the fire was that used by the miners to split refractory rock. And the cunning of man is seen in this, that he carries into the very heart of the mountains a path which no vulture or falcon ever saw, which the proud beasts and fierce lions have not trodden. "He puts forth his hand upon the flinty rock, He overturneth mountains by the roots." Slowly indeed as compared with modern work of the kind, yet surely, where those earnest toilers desired a way, excavations went on and tunnels were formed with wedge and hammer and pickaxe. The skill of man in providing tools and devising methods, and his patience and assiduity made him master of the very mountains. And when he had found the ore he could extract its precious metal and gems. "He cutteth out channels among the rocks; And his eye seeth every precious thing. He bindeth the streams that they trickle not And the hidden thing brings he forth to light." For washing his ore when it has been crushed he needs supplies of water, and to this end makes long aqueducts. In Idumaea a whole range of reservoirs may still be seen, by means of which even in the dry season the work of gold washing might be carried on without interruption. No particle of the precious metal escaped the quick eye of the practised miner. And again, if water began to percolate into his shaft or tunnel, he had skill to bind the streams that his search might not be hindered. Such then is man’s skill, such are his perseverance and success in the quest of things he counts valuable-iron for his tools, copper to fashion into vessels, gold and silver to adorn the crowns of kings, sapphires to gleam upon their raiment. And if in the depths of earth or anywhere the secrets of life could be reached, men of eager adventurous spirit would sooner or later find them out. It is to be noticed that, in the account given here of the search after hidden things, attention is confined to mining operations. And this may appear strange, the general subject being the quest of wisdom, that is understanding of the principles and methods by which the Divine government of the world is carried on. There was in those days a method of research, widely practised, to which some allusion might have been expected-the so-called art of astrology. The Chaldaeans had for centuries observed the stars, chronicled their apparent movements, measured the distances of the planets from each other in their unexplained progress through the constellations. On this survey of the heavens was built up a whole code of rules for predicting events. The stars which culminated at the time of any one’s birth, the planets visible when an undertaking was begun, were supposed to indicate prosperity or disaster. The author of the Book of Job could not be ignorant of this art. Why does he not mention it? Why does he not point out that by watching the stars man seeks in vain to penetrate Divine secrets? And the reply would seem to be that keeping absolute silence in regard to astrology he meant to refuse it as a method of inquiry. Patient, eager labour among the rocks and stones is the type of fruitful endeavour. Astrology is not in any way useful; nothing is reached by that method of questioning nature. The poet proceeds:- "Where shall wisdom be found, And where is the place of understanding? Man knoweth not the way thereof, Neither is it to be found in the land of the living. The deep saith, It is not in me; And the sea saith, It is not with me." The whole range of the physical cosmos, whether open to the examination of man or beyond his reach, is here declared incapable of supplying the clue to that underlying idea by which the course of things is ordered. The land of the living is the surface of the earth which men inhabit. The deep is the underworld. Neither there nor in the sea is the great secret to be found. As for its price, however earnestly men may desire to possess themselves of it, no treasures are of any use; it is not to be bought in any market. Never is wisdom got for gold, Nor for its price can silver be told. For the gold of Ophir it may not be won, The onyx rare or the sapphire stone. Gold is no measure and glass no hire, Jewels of gold twice fined by fire. Coral and crystal tell in vain, Pearls of the deep for wisdom’s gain. Topaz of Cush avails thee nought, Nor with gold of glory is it bought. While wisdom is thus of value incommensurate with all else men count precious and rare, it is equally beyond the reach of all other forms of mundane life. The birds that soar high into the atmosphere see nothing of it, nor does any creature that wanders far into uninhabitable wilds. Abaddon and Death indeed, the devouring abyss and that silent world which seems to gather and keep all secrets, have heard a rumour of it. Beyond the range of mortal sense some hint there may be of a Divine plan governing the mutations of existence, the fulfilment of which will throw light on the underworld where the spirits of the departed wait in age-long night. But death has no knowledge any more than life. Wisdom is God’s prerogative, His activities are His own to order and fulfil. God understandeth the way thereof, And He knoweth the place thereof. For He looketh to the ends of the earth, And seeth under the whole heaven, Making weight for the winds; And He meteth out the waters by measure. When He made a decree for the rain. And a way for the lightning of thunder, Then did He see it and number it, He established it, yea, and searched it out. The evolution, as we should say, of the order of nature gives fixed and visible embodiment to the wisdom of God. We must conclude, therefore, that the poet indicates the complete idea of the world as a cosmos governed by subtle all-pervading law for moral ends. The creation of the visible universe is assumed to begin, and with the created before Him God sees its capacities, determines the use to which its forces are to be put, the relation all things are to have to each other, to the life of man and to His own glory. But the hokhma or understanding of this remains forever beyond the discovery of the human intellect. Man knoweth not the way thereof. The forces of earth and air and sea and the deep that lieth under do not reveal the secret of their working; they are but instruments. And the end of all is not to be found in Sheol, in the silent world of the dead. God Himself is the Alpha and Omega, the first and the last. Yet man has his life and his law. Though intellectual understanding of his world and destiny may fail however earnestly he pursues the quest, he should obtain the knowledge that comes by reverence and obedience. He can adore God, he can distinguish good from evil and seek what is right and true. There lies his hokhma , there, says the poet, it must continue to lie. "And unto man He said, Behold the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom, And to depart from evil is understanding." The conclusion lays a hush upon man’s thought-but leaves it with a doctrine of God and faith reaching above the limitations of time and sense. Reverence for the Divine will not fully known, the pursuit of holiness, fear of the Unseen God are no agnosticism, they are the true springs of religious life. The Expositor's Bible Text Courtesy of BibleSupport.com . 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A place for gold where they fine it. Job 28:1 Refining the gold T. L. Cuyler, D. D. "There is a place for the gold where they fine it." This line from the Book of Job — so strong in its monosyllables — describes a spiritual as well as a chemical process. Over and over again in the Bible godly character is described by the happy simile of gold. It would be easy to run out the points of resemblance. All nations, from the polished to the savage, have agreed in regarding it the most beautiful of metals. It typifies the "beauty of holiness." It is an imperishable metal. When they opened the tomb of an old Etrurian king, buried twenty-five centuries ago, they found only a heap of royal dust. The only object that remained untouched by time was a fillet of gold which bound the monarch's brow. So doth true godliness survive the havoc of time and the ravages of the grave. Gold is the basis of a solvent currency; and genuine fear of God is the basis of all the virtues which pass current among humanity. The essence of all piety is obedience to God. It is the eternal law of right put into daily practice. Too much is said in these days about the aesthetics of religion and its sensibilities. Religion's home is in the conscience. Its watchword is the word "ought." Its highest joy is in doing God's will. ( T. L. Cuyler, D. D. ) And it hath dust of gold. Job 28:6 How to turn everything to gold James Legge, M. A. This chapter in Job describes with all a poet's force and beauty the miner's life in its loneliness, its dangers, and its triumphs. In those old days men endured the toil, and faced the dangers, to win the hidden gold, or precious stones. And from then till now men have ever been eager to find gold. The passion for gold is one of the strongest in the human heart. It has done much to shape the world's history. It has given us new arts, new sciences, and new industries. It has made solitary places populous, and filled empty lands with busy multitudes. Why is gold so coveted? For one thing, it is very rare. Gold has many properties peculiar to itself. And it is very durable. The principal reason of the high esteem for gold, is because it is the chief means of exchange between buyers and sellers. Some things, precious as it is, gold cannot buy. It cannot buy wisdom, knowledge, or goodness. Its possession means power to acquire all worldly good. Happiness cannot be bought with gold. The secret I am going to tell you is, — How to turn everything into gold. Not in a literal sense. Some people, though poor, are as happy as if all gold was theirs. Their purses may never be very full, but their hearts always are of faith and love They are always bright, and have a cheery smile and a kindly word for all in trouble. Such people have found the secret of turning everything to gold. What is the secret? Paul says, "I have learned, in whatever state I am, therewith to be content" He had learned so to love the Heavenly Father's will, so to trust Him, that all care and fear and darkness had fled out of life, and left it touched with perpetual golden light. And that is the secret that all men know who can turn things to gold. Love Christ, and follow Him, and you will have discovered the secret — how to turn everything to gold. ( James Legge, M. A. ) His eye seeth every precious thing. Job 28:10 Every precious thing Mark Guy Pearse. These words refer to the miner who digs for the treasure hidden in the earth. He finds the vein of silver, and the place for the gold. But if man's eye sees the precious things, let us think how God sees them. I. HE SEES THE PROMISE AND POSSIBILITY. There are many things of which, at a glance, men can see the worth; things that proclaim themselves loudly. Some things only the genius can see. The gold is in the quartz, but invisible. And what a poor thing is humanity! How hard it is to find in many people any promise of any goodness, any possibility of any worth. But lo! our God bends over us, and to Him this humanity is infinitely precious. To Him it is a pearl of great price, for which He hath given all, that He may purchase it for His own. This is the glory of our God; this is the meaning of His salvation — that He sees in humanity an infinite worth, that which He can uplift and beautify and transform into His own very image and likeness. II. HE SEES THE EFFORT AND WILL, WHERE OTHERS SEE ONLY THE POOR RESULT. God does not measure what we bring to Him, He weighs it. He knows what it cost. III. HE SEES THE GREAT RESULT, WHERE WE SEE BUT THE PROCESS. God sees for Joseph the throne of Egypt; the sceptre of that great nation is in his hand. But what does Joseph see when carried off by the Midianites? Thus is it ever that God sees the glorious result when we see but the dreary processes. He hears the joyous shout of harvest home, where we have only the chill earth and the darkness of the grave. This is our safety and our blessedness — to give ourselves to Him who knows how to turn us to the beat account, and to let Him have His own way with us perfectly. ( Mark Guy Pearse. ) The thing that is hid bringeth he forth to light. Job 28:11, 12 The religious uses and limitations of science W. T. Bankhead, M. A. , B. D. I. THE RELIGIOUS USES OF SCIENCE. "The thing that is hid man bringeth forth to light." Some think there is nothing but antagonism between science and religion. It is obvious that the science which traces out the mind of God in nature ought to be affianced to the faith which discerns the inner grace of His heart, and will, and character. 1. Science is helping to create a perfect environment for men, and so is the sister and helpmeet of the religion which seeks to create a perfect character in them. There is a very close connection between character and environment. 2. Science has a religious use, inasmuch as it reveals more fully the Divine power, and wisdom, and goodness in nature. 3. Science has a religious use, inasmuch as it tends to establish the unity and supremacy of God. These are cardinal articles of our creed. Science has proved the unity and uniformity of nature, and so has confirmed the great doctrine that there is only one living and true God. II. THE LIMITATIONS OF SCIENCE. It cannot take the place of religion, nor are its revelations all that the deepest heart of man most needs and desires. Scientific methods do not touch the sphere of spiritual facts. Some of Job's words sound like a prophecy of modern, agnostic teachings. Science has its own sphere, in which its method is valid and its authority supreme. But there is another sphere in which the conscience and the spirit are the organs of observation. Let us accept with devout thankfulness the riches which science is bringing us. But let us never forget that it cannot bring us to the secret place of the Most High, or quench our deepest thirst for peace, and purity, and fellowship with God. The way to these blessings is the way of moral obedience and spiritual communion through love with God in Christ. ( W. T. Bankhead, M. A. , B. D. ) But where shall wisdom be found? Job 28:12-28 The speculative difficulties of an inquiring intellect solved by the heart of practical piety Homilist. Two things are prominently developed in this chapter — Man's power and his weakness; his power to supply the material necessities of his nature, and his weakness to supply his mental cravings. I. EVERY INQUIRING INTELLECT HAS DIFFICULTIES WHICH IT IS ANXIOUS TO REMOVE. Two classes of intellectual difficulties — those connected with the physical realm of being, and those connected with the moral. The former class are pressing upon scientific men. The latter class by those who think on moral subjects. The difficulties in the moral department press far more heavily and fearfully on the heart of man than those in the physical. II. THAT THE PRINCIPLE WHICH REMOVES THOSE DIFFICULTIES CAN NEITHER BE PURCHASED BY WEALTH NOR ATTAINED BY INVESTIGATION. A search for it in the domain of inanimate nature would be useless. So would a search for it in the domain of life, or in the domain of departed souls. (Death, Sheol. ) III. THE HEART OF PRACTICAL PIETY YIELDS A SATISFACTORY SOLUTION OF ALL PAINFUL, INTELLECTUAL DUTIES. 1. This is asserted by one who understands what wisdom is. 2. This is proved by the nature of the case.(1) By sustaining in the mind an unshaken and cheerful trust in the great Disposer of all things.(2) By sustaining the consciousness that what we understand not now, we shall know hereafter.(3) By clearing away from the mind those feelings which prevent the intellect from understanding spiritual things.(4) By giving the soul a ruling sentiment kindred to the primary impulse of God. Piety, then, is the Wisdom , the solvent principle. ( Homilist. ) The religious use of wisdom Dean Stanley. What is this grace of wisdom, and why is it so highly exalted? 1. Wisdom, as described in the Bible, is that eager desire of knowledge which rests unsatisfied so long as a corner of darkness is left unexplored; that passion for learning which, like the fleets of Solomon, penetrated into the furthermost regions of the then known world, and brought back from the furthermost shores the stores of natural history. A spirit of inquiry may, no doubt, become frivolous and useless. But that is not its heaven-born mission. 2. The religious idea of wisdom is the exercise of "practical judgment and discretion"; "a wise and understanding heart to discern between good and bad"; the capacity for "justice, judgment, and equity." No doubt wisdom is not in itself goodness. The Proverbs are not the Psalms, Solomon was not David. But wisdom is next door to goodness, and religion leans upon her. How much mischief has been wrought because men have refused to acknowledge that common sense is a Christian grace. What a new aspect would be put upon the idleness, the selfishness, the extravagance of youth, if we could be taught to think not only of sinfulness, but of its contemptible folly, if we could be induced, not only to confess how often we were miserable sinners but also how often we have been miserable fools; what a great security for human welfare if we were to set ourselves not only to become better, but wiser, not only to gain holiness and virtue, but, as Solomon says, to get wisdom, get understanding; to pray that He who giveth liberally and upbraideth not, would in addition to His other blessings "give us wisdom." ( Dean Stanley. ) Culture and religion L. D. Bevan, D. D. By culture we mean that condition of the instructed and trained intellect which is the result of education, refinement, and large acquaintance with the facts of nature and history. By religion we understand that personal relation to the supreme King, and that character of moral and spiritual quality which for us is Christian, and depends upon faith in the Gospel as its spring, and obedience to the law of Jesus Christ as its directing and controlling force. The relations which these sides of human action may bear to each other can never be of slight importance. Some maintain that they are antagonistic. It is said the ages of faith are not the times of intelligence. Learning causes religion to dwindle. But history shows that the epochs of man's progress, when there is a larger force, and a more vigorous vitality, are marked by stimulus, not only to the intelligence and learning of the human mind, but also to the faith, and corresponding character of the human heart. Illustrate from the period of the revival of learning and letters. Was not this epoch also the revival of a truer faith? If learning was revived, surely also the Gospel of Jesus Christ found a new life. There was a further quickening of intellectual life in the eighteenth century. But was it not the age of Whitefield and Wesley? And what have we seen in our own time? We boast its intelligence. But it is the day of evangelism, and nowhere is such form of religious life more strong than in the centres of learning. 1. Religion is itself a means of mental discipline. One of the first objects of study which religion furnishes is the nature of the human soul itself. It is very difficult to mark the boundary where the philosophy of the mind is separated from the religion of the spirit. Religion is historic, and no man can rightly yield himself to the influence of religion without tracing the progress of Christian doctrine and the development of the Church. And what a history has been this ecclesiastical, this dogmatic history of two millenniums. This historical knowledge which religion furnishes leads us to that solitary figure whose shadow has been cast over every century since its appearance among men. Religion begins and ends with us with the knowledge of Jesus Christ. What object of human thought can afford such discipline, such inspiration, such directing, as His life and work? History is only the commentary on Christ. The events of every age only start from Him, and lead to Him again. We have left unto the last the greatest thought of all which religion presents. Whom do we worship? Whom do we seek? Who is the ultimate end of all Christian endeavour, all religious belief, all devout living? It is God — the Supreme, the Infinite, the necessary Being, source of all life, regulator of all movements, spring of all creation, the first, the last, the beginning and the end of universal being. No science can tulle us beyond the threshold of His abode. The relation of man to God includes the deep enigmas of sin and evil, the large speculation of freedom, necessity, responsibility, and law. It is no wonder that the philosophers of the schools called theology the Queen of the Sciences. 2. The other side of the relation which religion bears to mental cultivation, is that protective and medicative influence which it can exert, so as to guard against or remedy the evils, in peril of which an exclusively mental exercise always lies.(1) Religion corrects the tendency of culture to ignore the limits of man's power. If the mind be concerned only with objects of nature, the facts and laws of the external world, and the purely phenomenal presentations of the human intellect itself, it is in great danger of not perceiving the lines beyond which its advance is absolutely barred.(2) Another peril is the pride and self-valuation which mere intellectual cultivation sometimes occasions. This is a moral vice, a fault of character, an imperfection of the heart. The wise man must be humble. True learning is to learn what we cannot know. Faith, and worship, and adoring love forever keep the human heart in the ready and loyal acknowledgment of its God.(3) Another peril is social, affecting the educated man as he is viewed in relation to his fellows. A learning that is nothing but intellectual tends to make us forget .our brotherhood. There is nothing more selfish than culture. There is a scorn in learning of which every man lies in danger. The only corrective is religion. In her courts we stand upon a common ground. ( L. D. Bevan, D. D. ) The search alter wisdom E. M. Goulburn, D. G. L. The wisdom which man is concerned to acquire must be a wisdom which will stand him in stead throughout eternity. I. THE ABSTRUSENESS AND MARVELLOUSNESS OF HUMAN DISCOVERIES. The natural philosopher is engaged in a search; and many of his discoveries are attended with very beneficial results to the world at large. Let us ascertain, then, whether he has discovered the pearl of price for which we seek. In the investigation of nature men display an energy and perseverance which is well worthy of a nobler cause. But there is no rest, no peace, no satisfaction in this quest. It is of its very nature to be restless. II. THERE IS AN IMPASSABLE LIMIT WHICH HUMAN DISCOVERIES CANNOT GO BEYOND. The field of providence baffles us at the outset. Nature affords us no light whatever in solving the secrets of the Divine dispensations. III. "WHENCE COMETH WISDOM?" Shall our search after it be always fruitless? The seat of wisdom is, was, and ever has been, the bosom of God. Of Him we must learn it, if we would learn it at all. His Word shall set every mind at rest., shaft disclose to us what that true wisdom is, which is the sphere of man, and in which we may acquiesce. "The fear of the Lord, that is wisdom." To depart from evil is the wisdom of wisdoms, the highest, the only true wisdom. ( E. M. Goulburn, D. G. L. ) The inestimable value of true wisdom, or religion David Roberts, D. D. A man without religion is not wise; not so wise as he ought to be; nor so wise as he could be. It is religion that teaches a man to act worthily towards different objects — to call them by their proper names. It is religion that teaches a man to take the greatest care with the most precious things. It is religion that teaches a man how to give the best time to the most important work. It is religion that teaches a man to strive most to win the approval of Him who has it in His power to do most. it is religion, in a word, that fits a man to enter heaven. ( David Roberts, D. D. ) The secret of wisdom Canon Scott Holland. Why is wisdom so far harder to find than anything else? Why can man read every other riddle of nature except the one riddle that fascinates him? Nothing here can escape his scrutiny; nothing can bar his advance. Look at him, the chapter says, as he digs and mines and searches and sifts and purges the dross with fire, and gathers in the assorted wealth. Look at the track where he unearths his silver, and at the furnace where he refines his gold. And yet, in spite of all this practical supremacy, this masterful intimacy over nature, is he at all nearer to the discovery of her ultimate secret? Can he dig up the truth as he can a diamond? Can he buy it in the market for coral? Nay, what avail his pearls and rubies? Somehow the secret is ever eluding him. Just when men seem nearest to it, it slips from out of their clutch. Nature is forever suggesting it, yet forever concealing it. The sea, which had seemed to be murmuring it aloud in its dreams, now says, "It is not in me"; the depth, which had enticed us into its brooding wonder, now says, "It is not with me." Somehow they all stop short. "This is a path which no bird knows; the eye even of the vulture has never seen it; the wild beasts have never trodden it; the young lions pass not by that way; it is hid from the eyes of all living, and kept close from the birds of the air." So the Book confesses. Ah! how that ancient experience repeats itself in us today. Never was the contrast more vivid or more crushing than now between the astounding practical efficiency of our scientific handling of earth's material treasures, and the futility of our search for the inner secret. Still, the spectacle of nature spreads out before us its intimate invitation to come and take possession; there is no recess that we may not penetrate; no height and depth that we cannot enter. It makes itself ours, and we feel ourselves its master. We stand amazed at our own supremacy. No obstacles defeat us, no perils terrify. Down into the deep bowels of the earth we sink our shafts; over all its seas we send our fleets; our furnaces blaze, and our factories roar. How dauntless our search; how sublime our capacity, our patience, our persistence! But one thing remains as far off, as elusive as ever. Upon one discovery we cannot lay our hand. There is a point where our mastery suddenly droops; our cunning fails us, and our courage and our self-confidence drop away from under us. We snatch at what we fancied to be the thing which we desired to find, and our fingers close on emptiness. Where is it gone? Why cannot we hold it — this wisdom, this spiritual secret, this reality of things? Ah, yes, why indeed? Did we suppose that we should come upon it, hid in some mine with the sapphires and the dust of gold? Did we hope to dig it up one day? Nay, not by any such road can we arrive at wisdom; not in that fashion is it captured. The spiritual purpose, the inner reality of things is of another kind. Not by faculties such as these that our practical efficiency brings into play shall we apprehend it — "Seeing that it is hid from the eyes of all living, and kept close from the birds of the air." Practical skill, obviously, ludicrously fails us. But practical science, the science of experimental discovery, cannot that help us? It is our very organ of discovery: cannot it discover wisdom? Alas! Here, too, we find that the very exercise of those scientific faculties by which our astounding triumphs have been achieved excludes and banishes our chance of arriving by these methods at the secret of reality. The more we know that way, the less we arrive. The spread of our science, in which we have shown ourselves so masterful, so victorious, is won at the cost of intellectual limitations which prohibit our apprehension of the one thing that we desire to know. Science has carried us further off from the secret than we were before we were scientific. It has made more evident how elusive that secret is. We stare hopelessly out at stars so remote that the light which can travel ninety-three millions of miles to the sun in eight minutes takes hours and days and years even to arrive. And far beyond those stars again a million others spread away in swarms of tangled haze. Where are we in such a universe? What is man? How can he count? What intercourse can hold between him, in his terrible minute insignificance, and it in its unimaginable vastness? How dare he thrust himself in with all his ludicrous emotions, and his absurd desires? What does that vast world know of him in its icy aloofness; there, in that unplumbed and immeasurable abyss? Back we sink to look within; but is it more hopeful, our in-look there? The dear familiar face of the earth has disappeared under the siftings of physical science. And what frightens us is that all this mechanical universe into which we are scientifically introduced omits us, ignores us, goes on without us. That which is our real life, — our thought, our will, our imagination, our affection, our passion, these cannot find themselves there; they cannot be expressed in terms of mechanism. Practical science says, "It is not in me"; organised science says, "It is not in me." Where shall wisdom be found; is there any other road of search? Where is there a better promise of arrival? Well, there is an offer, which I think carries us a long way nearer than physical science. It is that of art. In the creative impulse, in the imaginative emotion kindled at the sight or sound of beauty, we have that which seems to open the door into the secret of existence, into the mind with which nature was made. Nature explains itself to us best as a majestic spectacle, as a living effort that finds its joy in being what it is. That is what all nature cries to us. Life teems, life dances, life sings: it is a glory just to be alive. Is not that the truth at which the sons of God shouted in the first morning of creation? The earth was so superb a fact; it stood as a picture; it grew like a poem, and it moved like music. God found His joy in flinging out His power in all this radiant majesty; He loved it for being alive, for being the expression of His love. And that joy of God in sheer existence passed into all things to become their soul. We need not inquire here for what ulterior end they were made, or what use they serve. It is so difficult to discern what will come of it all. But why ask? Enough that they are what they are. To live is to suffice; to live is to be intelligible; to live is to be justified. If only the world is content to rejoice in being what it is, it has attained. "Oh, all ye works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord! Praise Him and magnify Him forever." This cry of praise can sweep in so much that otherwise might perplex or distress us in the making of the world. Its hardships, its trials, its sufferings, may yet pass into the great hymn. Fire and hail, though they burn and break, yet are what they are, and as such, even as we suffer under them, we are glad to praise the Lord and magnify Him forever. The poet, the musician can suggest to us how the deeper pains of the great human tragedy may take a new meaning under the glamour of art, and can yield, under the pressure of high imagination, a sweeter, richer mystery of joy. Yes, in the passion of the artist we are close upon our secret, we are knocking at the door, as it were. Yet who can dare rest satisfied with that solution; who will stop there? Indignantly our hearts repudiate it. We cannot be as those who, like Goethe, could regard the universe as the material for a work of art. Music, poetry, may indeed, be able to suggest to us that sorrow and love and death are not all in vain; they may wring a bittersweet joy out of hardness. And yet, and yet, we dare not go round London streets today and say, "Be comforted; you are part of the eternal tragedy; you lend pathos to the human drama. Your sorrows rise into songs, your woes are gathered up into the great orchestral symphony of time. Men and women are so far more interesting when they suffer than when they succeed. If only you could see and feel it, your trouble leads to the final peace, even as the discords in a piece of musical development that crash so harshly on the ear are essential to the perfect close into which they gently resolve themselves." No, that will not do; that cannot be our Gospel for the poor and the heavy laden. Where, then, shall it be found? Where, really, is the place of understanding? What is our last word? Is it not the same as that which is given in the Book of Job? "The fear of the Lord — that is wisdom; to depart from evil — that is understanding." The moral life holds for us the central secret of reality. The moral life is our act of communion with the power that is at the heart of things. In it we arrive; by it we get home. A hundred problems may lie around us unsolved; we may have to walk in blindness amid a world that we can make nothing of. We may be utterly unable to account for the origin of things, or to interpret their purpose, or to foresee their end. But for all this we can afford to wait; for, deep at the core of our being we have that in us which holds us fast shut within the very light of life, within the very eternity of God. His will — that will in which the worlds move and are in being — closes round our will; His love — that love which is the fount of all creation and the end of all desire — folds itself about our little trembling flame of love. We are His; He is ours. Surrendered to the law of His life we are at peace within the very secret of all secrets. Some day we shall know and see and understand. Then the amazing purpose will unveil itself, and we shall sing our "Hallelujah, Amen." But enough if now, blind though we be, and impotent and staggered, we yet can be aware that He, whom we possess, and who desires us, is Himself the sole supreme reality of all that exists, that He is Lord and God of all, that He will at last be all in all. By surrender to Him, by obedience to Him in His fear, lies our only present wisdom — a wisdom which holds in it the promise and the pledge of all other wisdom that can be. This is the mystery of the conscience, of the will, of the heart, of the fear of the Lord. Through it, and through it alone, can man make good his entry within the veil, within the light. This faith in the moral law is being sorely tried today, just because the vast disclosures of science seem to carry us further and further away from a world in which moral purposes prevail. The world of infinite mechanism which is opened out to us, reaching far away into appalling distances beyond our power even to imagine, at work within in a minuteness of scale which paralyses our reason, wears the air of something altogether non-moral. There seems to be no bond that holds between it and our purposes and convictions. Where are we? What significance have we? What importance dare we attribute to our tiny actions? Ah! how difficult to uphold our belief that all these rolling suns are as mere dust in the balance over against a Commandment pronouncing, "Thou shalt," "Thou shalt not." They cannot be weighed against a sin. The soul has that in it which outweighs them all. How difficult; yet that is our faith. "The fear of the Lord," we say, "that is wisdom." Can we hold it fast? Will we live and die in it? Will we utter it aloud, and stand by it in the face of all the million suns? No; the guidance, the assurance that we need must be strong, decided, masterful, absolute, if it is to bear up against the terrible counter pressure. A voice must speak which never wavers, a voice which holds in it the very sound of authority, a voice which cannot be gainsaid. And therefore, to supply this authoritative momentum, a Babe has been born into the world, through whom such an appeal as that can reach us, He will live and He will die to verify the fear of the Lord as man's one and only wisdom. Through His lips man may know, with a certainty which no counter-experience can ever shake, that it is worth while to lose the whole world, if only he can save his soul; truth and righteousness and purity are the sole treasure that he can lay up for himself in Heaven — that he had better pluck out his right eye than gain through it a lustful pleasure — that he had better be drowned with a millstone round his neck in the depths of the sea than do a hurt to the least of God's little ones. In the sweat of blood, in the sacrifice of the Cross, He will exhibit the unconquerable splendour of the dedicated will at the price of all that life can offer. And, moreover, He who asserts that supremacy of the moral interest is one who, by His very nature, proclaims that man, concentrating himself upon this unique moral interest, and letting all go on its behoof, finds himself one with the eternal reality of things, one with the ultimate life, one with the Father of all flesh; for He who so dies to all but the moral command is Himself the One in whom God sums up all creation. You are not, therefore, asked to despise or to condemn the wonderful world disclosed by science or revealed by art; you are not asked to think little of that vast universe, with its rolling spheres, because there is set before you, here on earth, this sole and supreme purpose — to fear God and to hate evil. For in this moral issue lies the secret of the entire sum of things; and the pure will of Jesus is the will on which all existence is framed. Win there, and you will win everywhere; win there in the moral struggle, and behold, "All things are yours, things in heaven, things in earth, and things under the earth." All, all at last will be yours! you hold the secret of power — "For you are Christ's, and Christ is God's." But., remember, you must win there or you are lost, whatever else you may win. That is our Gospel. And here in this arena there is no one who, in Christ, may not win. Your life may become a victory. Yes; even for you, who feel, perhaps, so terribly beaten by the pressure of a hard world. ( Canon Scott Holland. ) And the crystal cannot equal it. Job 28:17 The crystal exact T. De Witt Talmage. In the first place I remark that religion is superior to the crystal in exactness. That shapeless mass of crystal against which you accidentally dashed your foot is laid out with more exactness than any earthly city. There are six styles of crystallisation, and all of them divinely ordained. Every crystal has mathematical precision. God's geometry reaches through it, and it is a square, or it is a rectangle, or it is a rhomboid or, in some way, it hath a mathematical figure. Now religion beats that in the simple fact that spiritual accuracy is more beautiful than material accuracy. God's attributes are exact. God's law exact. God's decrees exact. God's management of the world exact. Never counting wrong, though He counts the grass blades and the stars, and the sands and the cycles. His providences never dealing with us perpendicularly when those providences ought to be oblique, nor lateral when they ought to be vertical. Everything in our life arranged without any possibility of mistake. Each life a six-sided prism. Born at the right time; dying at the right time. There are no happen-sos in our theology. If I thought this was a slipshod universe I would go crazy. God is not an anarchist. Law, order, symmetry, precision. A perfect square. A perfect rectangle. A perfect rhomboid. A perfect circle. The edge of God's robe of government never frays out. There are no loose screws in the world's machinery. It did not just happen that Napoleon was attacked with indigestion at Bor

28:1-11 Job maintained that the dispensations of Providence were regulated by the highest wisdom. To confirm this, he showed of what a great deal of knowledge and wealth men may make themselves masters. The caverns of the earth may be discovered, but not the counsels of Heaven. Go to the miners, thou sluggard in religion, consider their ways, and be wise. Let their courage and diligence in seeking the wealth that perishes, shame us out of slothfulness and faint-heartedness in labouring for the true riches. How much better is it to get wisdom than gold! How much easier, and safer! Yet gold is sought for, but grace neglected. Will the hopes of precious things out of the earth, so men call them, though really they are paltry and perishing, be such a spur to industry, and shall not the certain prospect of truly precious things in heaven be much more so? 28:12-19 Job here speaks of wisdom and understanding, the knowing and enjoying of God and ourselves. Its worth is infinitely more than all the riches in this world. It is a gift of the Holy Ghost which cannot be bought with money. Let that which is most precious in God's account, be so in ours. Job asks after it as one that truly desired to find it, and despaired of finding it any where but in God; any way but by Divine revelation. 28:20-28 There is a two-fold wisdom; one hid in God, which is secret, and belongs not to us; the other made known by him, and revealed to man. One day's events, and one man's affairs, have such reference to, and so hang one upon another, that He only, to whom all is open, and who sees the whole at one view, can rightly judge of every part. But the knowledge of God's revealed will is within our reach, and will do us good. Let man look upon this as his wisdom, To fear the Lord, and to depart from evil. Let him learn that, and he is learned enough. Where is this wisdom to be found? The treasures of it are hid in Christ, revealed by the word, received by faith, through the Holy Ghost. It will not feed pride or vanity, or amuse our vain curiosity. It teaches and encourages sinners to fear the Lord, and to depart from evil, in the exercise of repentance and faith, without desiring to solve all difficulties about the events of this life.