Verse 20. A man grows old by the common use of his faculties; but if he pleases he can travel faster. He can make drafts upon his flesh with wine, and burn faster. . . . A man can seek death by the most moral impenitence. But he can also travel faster. He can do it by drunkenness. He can do it by trains of trespasses, of which common drunkenness may stand as chief.—Miller.
We are forbidden not only to be drunkards or gluttons, but to be found in the company of such persons; for bad company is the common temptation which the devil uses to draw men to these sins. Those who have been long inured to a temperate course of life must not think that they are at liberty to infringe this precept, and to mingle themselves with the sons of riot, because they are strong enough in their own eye to overcome all the temptations of sensuality. Christ charges His own disciples, who had been practised in every virtue under his own eye, and who had less temptations to this vice than any other men, to take heed to themselves that their hearts might not be overcharged with surfeiting and drunkenness.—Lawson.
Verse 23. Solomon bids us buy the truth, but does not tell us what it must cost, because we must get it though it be ever so dear. We must love it both shining and scorching. Every parcel of truth is precious as filings of gold; we must either live with it or die for it. . . . A man may lawfully sell his house, land, or jewels, but truth is a jewel that excels all prices, and must not be sold; it is our heritage: “Thy testimonies have I taken as an heritage for ever” (Psa. cxix. 111). It is a legacy that our forefathers have bought with their bloods, which should make us willing to lay down anything or lay out anything to purchase it.—Brooks.
A merchant buys for the very purpose of selling; and he will not buy unless he has a pretty good assurance that he will sell at a profit; that he can get for his article more than he has given. The case here, then, is quite peculiar. It is all buying. The article is one which is to be bought but never sold. And why? For the best possible reason, that it can never be sold at a profit, there is nothing too valuable to be given for it, there is nothing valuable enough to be taken for it. . . . 1. The buyer tests his article. He uses means to ascertain its genuineness. . . . The cautious purchaser makes sure of his bargain, and all the surer, the higher the price. . . . Now, all that is presented to us as truth must be thus tested. In physical science scientific men will not take upon trust what professes to be a new discovery without examining thoroughly the experiments by which it is said to have been ascertained. . . . Thus, too, does the metaphysician in regard to every new theory in mental science; and the moral philosopher in the department of ethics. . . . Now, we are as far as possible from wishing it to be otherwise in the department of religion. In proportion to the importance of the case,—to the height of the authority on which the claims to acceptance are rested,—the magnitude at once of the benefits promised, and of the risks incurred,—ought to be the solicitude and care with which the testing process is conducted. This then is the last department of all, in which what professes to be truth should be taken upon trust; in which inquiry should be careless, and faith easy. The obligation to examine is imperative and solemn; and marvellous, indeed, is the indisposition of men to enter on the investigation. Men who, with the utmost earnestness and perseverance, will test every alleged truth in science, in history, or in politics, cannot be persuaded to apply their powers to an inquiry more important, by infinite degrees, than any other that can engage the attention of the human mind! They either decline it altogether, or they set about it with a levity and a superficiality utterly at variance with what such a question demands, and from which no just appreciation or correct conclusion can be anticipated. 2. It is not enough for the buyer to ascertain the genuineness of his article. He sets about estimating its real worth; its worth intrinsically, and its worth adventitiously; its worth in itself, and its worth to him. The two may be widely different. The diamond is of incomparably more intrinsic worth than the grain of barley; but the cock in the fable spurned away the former and picked up the latter. In the present case,—having once ascertained the Divine authority of the record,—there can be no hesitation about either the intrinsic or the relative value of what it makes known. All truth is precious; but its preciousness is, of course, endlessly varied in degree. Two things may be considered as combining to constitute its value. They are—its subject, and its utility. In natural science some truths present a union of both. The discoveries of astronomy for example, are, many of them, full of intrinsic interest from their vastness and sublimity, and the impressions they give of the transcendent majesty of God; while, in some of their practical bearings, they are of pre-eminent advantage to men. But in a peculiar sense may this be affirmed of the discoveries of Divine revelation. These discoveries present views of God’s moral government, in its great essential principles and in their practical application, such as have in them a weight of moral grandeur, and a consequent depth of absorbing interest surpassing all that nature can disclose. And, while they possess intrinsic preciousness above all other truths,—think of their value when estimated by the blessings which are unfolded in them, and to which the faith of them introduces the believer, in time and in eternity! The purchaser values the article he is about to purchase, by the amount of benefit the possession of it will bring him. In like manner must you estimate the value of “the truth” you are here counselled to buy. The value of it, in this view, is summed up by our Lord himself, when he says, “This is life eternal.” What then, the real worth to you, of any other compared with this? 3. The buyer, when he has estimated the value of his article, makes proportional sacrifices to obtain possession of it. Foolish estimates there may be; and these foolish estimates may be the occasion of foolish bargains; and these may be the grounds of regret and self-dissatisfaction. But supposing the certainty of all the benefits, for time and eternity, which in the Bible are promised and guaranteed in connection with “the truth,” O! what is there, in the whole compass of what this world can confer, that should not, without one moment’s hesitation, be sacrificed for its attainment? 4. In proportion to the buyer’s estimate of his article, and the cost at which he has obtained it, will be the jealousy with which he retains and guards it. “Sell it not.” Selling the truth, is not simply letting slip from the mind the remembrance of mere abstractions; it is to give up the profession and faith of it for the sake of the very things which we sacrificed for it. But “sell it not.” Sell it not for the pleasures of sin. Sell it not for the riches and honours of the world. O part not with the pearl of great price for the husks which the swine do eat. . . . And be prompt with your bargain. Those who are much set upon an article will not delay their purchase, lest perchance it should pass from their hands. Blessed be God there is no danger here, so far as others coming forward before you is concerned. . . . But if not now prompt and decided you may be thwarted in another way. Death may decide the matter for you.—Wardlaw.
Verse 26. A supplication is come, as it were, from God to man, that man would send God his heart; penned by Solomon under the name of wisdom (chap. ix. 1), and directed to her sons. . . . He which always gave, now craves; and he which craves always, now gives. Christ stands at the door like a poor man, and asks not bread, nor clothes, nor lodgings, which we should give to His members, but our heart—that is, even the continent of all, and governor of man’s house. . . . Should God be a suppliant unto thee and me, but that our unthankfulness condemns us, that for all the things which He hath given unto us, we never considered yet what we should give unto Him before He asketh. . . . Mark what God hath chosen for Himself: not that which any other should lose by, like the demands of them which care for none but themselves, but that which, being given to God, moves us to give every man his due. . . . Give God thy heart, that He may keep it; not a piece of thy heart, not a room in thy heart, but thy heart. The heart divided, dieth. God is not like the mother which would have the child divided, but like the natural mother which said, Rather than it should be divided, let her take it all. Let the devil have all, if He which gave it be not worthy of it. . . . As a man considers what he does when he gives, so God licenseth us to consider of that which we do for Him, whether He deserves it, whether we owe it, whether He can require it, lest it come against our will; therefore give Me, saith God, as though He would not strain upon us, or take it from us. . . . Is God so desirous of my heart? What good can my heart do to God? It is not worthy to come under His roof. I would I had a better gift to send unto my Lord; go, my heart, to thy Maker; the Bridegroom hath sent for thee, put on thy wedding garment, for the King Himself will marry thee. Who is not sorry now that he did not give his heart before? Is he not worthy to die that will take his heart from Him that made it, from Him that redeemed it, from Him which preserves it, from Him that will glorify it, and gives it to him that will infect it, torment it, condemn it? Will a servant reach the cup to a stranger when his master calls for it? Or will a man sell his coat if he have no more? What dost thou reserve for God, when thou hast given Satan thine heart? Christ hath promised to come and dwell with thee (Rev. iii. 20); where shall He stay, where shall He dine, if the chamber be taken up, and the heart let forth to another? Thou art but a tenant, and yet thou takest His house over His head, and placest in it whom thou wilt, as if thou wert landlord.—Henry Smith.
I. Man has nothing higher to dispose of. His heart is given when he sets his strongest affections upon an object. Wherever he centres his strongest love his heart is, and wherever his heart is he is. . . . II. Man is compelled to dispose of it. He is forced, not by any outward coercion, but by an inward pressure. It is as necessary for the soul to love as it is to the body to breathe. The deepest of all the deep hungers of humanity is the hunger of the soul to love. Sometimes so ravenous does man’s animal appetite for food become, that he will devour with a kind of relish the most loathsome things; and so voracious is the heart for some object to love, that it will settle down upon the lowest and most contemptible creatures rather than not love at all. III. Man alone can dispose of it. No one can take it from him by force. He is the only priest who can present it.—Dr. David Thomas.
Verse 28. Uncleanness leads to faithlessness of manifold kinds; and it makes not only the husband unfaithful to the wife, but also the son to the parents, the scholar to the teacher and pastor, the servant to the master. The adulteress, inasmuch as she entices now one and now another into her net, increases the number of those who are faithless towards men. But are they not, above all, faithless towards God?—Delitzsch.
main homiletics of the paragraph.—Verses 29–35.
The Drunkard’s Picture.
I. The drunkard is an entire inversion of man as God intended him to be. God made man’s mind to rule his body, but the drunkard’s bodily appetites rule his mind. God gave man an intellect to guide his actions; He intended the various limbs of his body to be the servants of his will, and to obey the dictates of his reason. But the drunkard not only gives up all his spiritual and intellectual power to his body, but all his other bodily powers to the rule of one sense—that of his palate. Men who are not awake to their spiritual and mental needs might be expected to have as much regard for their animal wants, and to be as careful to avoid bodily suffering as the brute creation. But it is not so with the drunkard—although nights and days of privation and suffering are often the fruits of an hour’s drinking, he voluntarily undergoes the former in order to enjoy the latter. Not only is conscience and reason and heart sacrificed to his mouth, but every other bodily sense is made to serve the one sense and every other part of the body to suffer, that one part may be gratified if but for a moment.