III. There is a bond stronger than any tie of blood-relationship. We have abundant and melancholy proofs that the mere fact of being brothers according to the flesh does not make men one in heart. The first man who tasted death was murdered by his brother, and many sons of the same father since that day have been separated from each other by a hatred as deep and deadly as that which prompted Cain to murder Abel. In the family in which Solomon was a son there was one brother with the blood of another upon his head (2 Sam. xiii. 28–30). Something stronger and deeper than the mere tie of blood is needed to make men one in heart. The most beautiful example of friendship upon record existed between the son of Saul and the shepherd of Bethlehem where there was no relationship according to the flesh, and where the heir-apparent to the throne loved as his own soul the youth who was to supplant him. There is no friendship so firm and enduring as that which is based upon doing the will of God (Mark iii. 35) no brotherhood so perfect and lasting as that which has its origin in a common discipleship to Him who is not ashamed to call them brothers (Heb. ii. 11), and who is Himself the “friend above all others,” whose love can span the distance between His throne in glory and the meanest hovel upon earth, and the greater distance between Divine perfection and human sinfulness, and who was in all things “made like unto his brethren,” that having Himself “suffered being tempted, He might be able to succour them that are tempted” (Heb. ii. 17), and thus prove Himself to be pre-eminently the “Brother born for adversity,” and the “Friend that sticketh closer than a brother.”
IV. It is an evidence of great folly to treat men as bosom-friends before we know them. There are men who will trust in a comparative stranger to such an extent as to lend their credit and their good name to him without any reasonable security. Such a man Solomon here characterises as being “void of understanding.” It is a mark of a fool to enter into any engagement without deliberation, and in nothing does lack of wisdom more plainly manifest itself than in the formation of hasty friendships, especially if the friendship involves a man in any kind of suretyship. From lack of prudence in this matter many a man has been “all his lifetime subject to bondage.” It behoves all men in the matter of friendship to follow the advice of Polonius:—
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade.
illustration of true friendship.
Damon was sentenced to die on a certain day, and sought permission of Dionysius of Syracuse to visit his family in the interim. It was granted on condition of securing a hostage for himself. Pythias heard of it, and volunteered to stand in his friend’s place. The king visited him in prison, and conversed with him about the motive of his conduct, affirming his disbelief in the influence of friendship. Pythias expressed his wish to die, that his friend’s honour might be vindicated. He prayed the gods to delay the return of Damon till after his own execution in his stead. The fatal day arrived. Dionysius sat on a moving throne drawn by six white horses. Pythias mounted the scaffold and thus addressed the spectators, “My prayer is heard; the gods are propitious, for the winds have been contrary till yesterday. Damon could not come, he could not conquer impossibilities; he will be here to-morrow, and the blood that is shed to-day shall have ransomed the life of my friend. Could I erase from your bosoms every mean suspicion of the honour of Damon, I should go to my death as I should to my bridal.”. . . As he closed a voice in the distance cried, “Stop the execution!” and the cry was taken up and repeated by the whole assembly. A man rode up at full speed, mounted the scaffold, and embraced Pythias, crying, “You are safe now, my beloved friend! I have nothing but death to suffer, and am delivered from reproaches for having endangered a life so much dearer than my own.” Pythias replied, “Fatal haste, cruel impatience! What envious powers have wrought impossibilities in your favour? But I will not be wholly disappointed. Since I cannot die to save you, I will not survive you.” The king was moved to tears, and, ascending the scaffold, cried, “Live, live, ye incomparable pair! Ye have borne unquestionable testimony to the existence of virtue, and that virtue equally evinces the existence of a god to reward it. Live happy, live renowned, and oh! form me by your precepts, as ye have invited me by your example, to be worthy of the participation of so sacred a friendship.”
outlines and suggestive comments.
Verse 17. “The Friend.” We are to notice the article. It does not impair the proverb for its secular use. We have such an idiom: “the friend,” i.e., the true friend. Even a worldly friend, to be worth anything, must be for all times; and what is a brother born for, but for distress? But spiritually, the article is just in its place. There is but One Only “Friend,” and a “Brother” who would not have been “born” at all, but for the distress and straitness of His house.—Miller.
Friendship contrasted with the wicked decreases from hour to hour, like the early shadow of the morning; but friendship formed with the virtuous will increase like the shadow of evening, till the sun of life shall set.—Herder.
Extremity distinguisheth friends. Worldly pleasures, like physicians, give us over, when once we lie-a-dying; and yet the death-bed hath most need of comforts. Christ Jesus standeth by His in the pangs of death, and after death at the bar of judgment; not leaving them either in their bed or grave. I will use them, therefore, to my best advantage; not trust them. But for Thee, O my Lord, which in mercy and truth canst not fail me, who I have found ever faithful and present in all extremities, kill me, yet will I trust in Thee.—Bp. Hall.
A friend shares my sorrow and makes it but a moiety; but He swells my joy and makes it double. For so two channels divide the river and lessen it into rivulets and make it fordable, and apt to drink up at the first revels of the Syrian star; but two torches do not divide, but increase the flame. And though my tears are the sooner dried up when they run on my friend’s cheek in furrows of compassion; yet when my flame has kindled his lamp, we unite the glories, and make them radiant, like the golden candlesticks that burn before the throne of God; because they shine by numbers, by unions, and confederations of light and joy.—Jeremy Taylor.