An Appeal and an Argument.
i. 2, 3. Hear, O heavens; and give ear, O earth: for the Lord hath spoken, I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me. The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master’s crib: but Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider.
I. The unnaturalness of sin. The heavens and the earth obey the laws to which they have been subjected; the very beasts are faithful to their instincts; it is only man who falls in duty and goes astray. II. The baseness of ingratitude: as displayed—1. By man to man;[1] 2. By children to their parents;[2] 3. By men to their Heavenly Father.[3] III. The reasonableness of God’s claim to their obedience and love. 1. He is our Father.[4] 2. To all parental duties He has been faithful. 3. He has been more than faithful; He has caused our cup to run over with His lovingkindness.[5] IV. Privilege is the measure of responsibility and the aggravation of guilt. The point of the condemnation in these verses does not lie in the contrast between the conduct of animals and men, but in the contrast between the conduct of animals and that of God’s people. “Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider!” This is the wonder and the monstrosity. That privilege is the measure of responsibility and the aggravation of guilt, is a very familiar truth; a truth often forgotten; and yet absolutely certain and tremendously important (Luke xii. 48; Heb. vi. 7, 8). What need we have to lay it to heart!
FOOTNOTES:
[1] All should unite to punish the ungrateful:
Ingratitude is treason to mankind.—Thomson.
He that’s ungrateful has no guilt but one;
All other crimes may pass for virtues in him.—Young.
[2] Sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is
To have a thankless child.—Shakespeare.
[3] An ungracious soul may be burdened with many sins; but she never makes up her full load till she hath added the sin of unthankfulness. He leaves out no evil in a man who calls him unthankful. Ingratitude dissolves the joints of the whole world. A barren ground is less blamed, because it hath not been dressed. But till it with the plough; trust it with seed; let the clouds bless it with their rain, the sun with his heat, the heavens with their influence, and then if it be unfertile, the condition is worse; before it was contemned, now it is cursed (Heb. vi. 8).—Adams, 1654.
Some are such brutes, that, like swine, their nose is nailed to the trough in which they feed; they have not the use of their understanding so far as to lift their eye to heaven, and say, “There dwells that God that provides this for me, that God by whom I live.”—Gurnall.
You would count it a sad spectacle to behold a man in a lethargy, with his senses and reason so blasted by his disease that he knows not his nearest friends, and takes no notice of those that tend him, or bring his daily food to him. How many such senseless wretches are at this day lying upon God’s hands! He ministers daily to their necessities, but they take no notice of His care and goodness.—Gurnall, 1617–1679.
The frozen snake in the fable stingeth him that refreshed it. Thus is it with all unthankful men: God leadeth them daily with benefits and blessings, and they load Him with sins and trespasses.—Stapleton, 1535–1598.
[4] It is an excellent representation of St. Austin: if a sculptor, after his fashioning a piece of marble in a human figure, could inspire it with life and sense, and give it motion and understanding and speech, can it be imagined not the first act of it would be to prostrate itself at the feet of the maker in subjection and thankfulness, and to offer whatever it is, and can do, as homage to him? The almighty hand of God formed our bodies. He breathed into us the spirit of life, and should not the power of love constrain us to live wholly to His will?—Bates, 1625–1629.
[5] We find the fiercest things that live,
The savage born, the wildly rue,
When soothed by Mercy’s hand will give
Some faint response of gratitude.
But man!—oh! blush, ye lordly race!—
Shrink back, and question thy proud heart!
Dost thou not lack that thankful grace
Which ever forms the soul’s best part?
Wilt thou not take the blessings given,
The priceless boon of ruddy health,
The sleep unbroken, peace unriven,
The cup of joy, the mine of wealth?
Wilt thou not take them all, and yet
Walk from the cradle to the grave
Enjoying, boasting, and forget
To think upon the God that gave?
Thou’lt even kneel to blood-stained kings,
Nor fear to have thy serfdom known;
Thy knee will bend for bauble things,
Yet fail to seek its Maker’s throne.—Eliza Cook