Let us not lose sight of the fact that the accidental death of any one near the Nazarite—that the thoughtless putting forth of the hand even—might violate his vow of consecration as truly, if not as guiltily, as an act of deliberate transgression; in either case all the previous time was lost, and the period of consecration had to be recommenced after his cleansing. And that cleansing could only be brought about through sacrifice; the sin-offering must die; the burnt-offering must die; without shedding of blood there could be no remission. So serious was the effect of transgression—and yet, thank God, it was not irremediable.

The bearing of this on the life of consecration to God in the present day is important. Nearness to God calls for tenderness of conscience, thoughtfulness in service, and implicit obedience. If we become conscious of the slightest failure, even through inadvertence, let us not excuse it, but at once humble ourselves before God, and confess it, seeking forgiveness and cleansing on the ground of the accepted sacrifice of Christ. God's Word is, "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." This cleansing must be accepted by faith, and a walk "in the light" be at once resumed. And shall we not reverently ask and trust the Holy Spirit to guard and keep us from inadvertence, and to bring to our remembrance those things which we may be in danger of forgetting?

ACCEPTANCE ONLY IN CHRIST: verses 13-15.

"And this is the law of the Nazarite, when the days of his separation are fulfilled: he shall be brought unto the door of the tabernacle of the congregation; And he shall offer his offering unto the Lord, one he-lamb of the first year without blemish for a burnt-offering, and one ewe-lamb of the first year without blemish for a sin-offering, and one ram without blemish for peace-offerings, and a basket of unleavened bread, cakes of fine flour mingled with oil, and wafers of unleavened bread anointed with oil, and their meat-offering, and their drink-offerings."

Having seen the character of the vow of the Nazarite, and of the ordinances to be observed should the vow be violated, the case of a Nazarite who has duly fulfilled his vow is next dealt with. He has carried out all God's requirements, and his conscience is void of offence: before God and man he is blameless. May he not now congratulate himself, and claim some measure of merit, seeing he has rendered to God an acceptable service, and among men has borne a consistent testimony? The offerings to be made on the conclusion of his vow give an impressive answer to this question, and bring out the important difference between being blameless and being sinless. Having fulfilled the ordinances he was blameless; but the necessity alike for sin-offering, for burnt-offering, and for peace offering, remind us of the sin of our holy things; and that not our worst, but our best, is only acceptable to God through the atonement of our Lord Jesus Christ.

While, however, the best services of the believer can neither give full satisfaction to his own enlightened conscience, nor be acceptable to God save through Jesus Christ, it is very blessed to know how fully all his needs are met in Christ, and how truly he is accepted in Him, and enabled to give very real joy to God our Father, which issues in the bestowal of His richest blessings. Very imperfect—sometimes worse than useless, is the attempt of a little child to please and serve its parent; but where the parent sees an effort to do his will, and to give him pleasure, is not the service gladly accepted, and the parent's heart greatly rejoiced? Thus it is our privilege to be Nazarites, only and always Nazarites, and through Christ Jesus to give joy and satisfaction by our imperfect service to our heavenly Father. The following anonymous lines, taken from a leaflet,[A] beautifully illustrate this thought:—

I was sitting alone in the twilight,
With spirit troubled and vexed,
With thoughts that were morbid and gloomy,
And faith that was sadly perplexed. Some homely work I was doing
For the child of my love and care;
Some stitches half-wearily setting
In the endless need of repair. But my thoughts were about "the building,"
The work some day to be tried;
And that only the gold and the silver,
And the precious stones should abide; And, remembering my own poor efforts,
The wretched work I had done,
And, even when trying most truly,
The meagre success I had won; "It is nothing but wood, hay, and stubble,"
I said; "it will all be burned—
This useless fruit of the talents
One day to be returned; "And I have so longed to serve Him,
And sometimes I know I have tried;
But I'm sure, when He sees such a building,
He will never let it abide." Just then, as I turned the garment
That no rent should be left behind,
My eye caught an odd little bungle
Of mending and patchwork combined. My heart grew suddenly tender,
And something blinded my eyes,
With one of those sweet intuitions
That sometimes makes us so wise. Dear child, she wanted to help me;
I knew 'twas the best she could do;
But oh, what a botch she had made it—
The grey mis-matching the blue! And yet—can you understand it?
With a tender smile and a tear,
And a half-compassionate yearning,
I felt her grown more dear. Then a sweet voice broke the silence,
And the dear Lord said to me—
"Art thou tenderer for the little child
Than I am tender for thee." Then straightway I knew His meaning,
So full of compassion and love;
And my faith came back to its Refuge,
Like the glad returning dove. For I thought when the Master Builder
Comes down His temple to view,
To see what rents must be mended,
And what must be builded anew; Perhaps, as He looks o'er the building,
He will bring my work to the light,
And, seeing the marring and bungling,
And how far it all is from right, He will feel as I felt for my darling,
And will say as I said for her—
"Dear child, she wanted to help me,
And love for me was the spur; "And, for the real love that was in it,
The work shall seem perfect as mine;
And because it was willing service,
I will crown it with plaudit divine." And there, in the deepening twilight,
I seemed to be clasping a Hand,
And to feel a great love constraining me,
Stronger than any command. Then I knew, by the thrill of sweetness,
'Twas the hand of the Blessed One,
Which would tenderly guide and hold me,
Till all the labour is done. So my thoughts are never more gloomy,
My faith no longer is dim:
But my heart is strong and restful,
And mine eyes are unto Him.

[A] Published under the title, "The Voice in the Twilight," by Holness, 14, Paternoster Row, 6d. per hundred, post free.

THE PRESENTATION OF THE NAZARITE.

Let us now look into the law of the Nazarite when the days of his separation were fulfilled. The first thing that strikes our notice is, "He shall be brought," not, he shall come. Why is this? and why is it that the law is so explicit as to every detail of ritual and service, scarcely leaving any room for voluntary action?—we say scarcely, because in the twenty-first verse there is one little clause, "Beside that that his hand shall get," which does leave room for additional tokens of gratitude and love.