Verse 22. It is precisely such a woman who should wear such garments. The silk hangs all the more gracefully on her person that it was wound and spun by her own hands. . . . This matron is not limited to silk and purple; strength and honour are her clothing too. She may safely wear elegant garments, who in character and bearing is elegant without their aid. If honour be your clothing, the suit will last a life-time, but if clothing be your honour, it will soon be worn threadbare.—Arnot.

Verse 26. There be may false keys which open the mouths of many, as rashness, and choler, and pride, and folly, and the like. But there is one right key, and that is wisdom. That it is which makes a virtuous woman courteous to all, a flatterer to none, a tale-bearer to none; that it is which maketh her to be familiar with a few, to be just and true with every one: that it is which maketh her respectful to her husband, lovingly grave to her children, awfully grave to her servants; dutiful to her superiors, affable with her equals, friendly to her neighbours, and not disdainful to her inferiors; that it is which maketh her slow to speak, quiet in speaking, profitable by speaking.—Jermin.

Verse 29. By the benefit of a better nature, or civil education, or for the praise of men, or for a quiet life, sure it is that all unsanctified women, though never so well qualified, have failed, both quoad fontem, et quoad finem, for want of faith for the principle and God’s glory for the aim of their virtuous actions. And, therefore, though they may be praiseworthy, yet they are far short of this gracious matron. . . . “Better is pale gold than glittering copper.” (Bernard.) Say the world what it will, a drachm of holiness is worth a pound of good nature.—Trapp.

Verses 30 and 31. The lessons and where they began. Obedience is traced up to faith. . . . As we traverse the various phases of her character, we seem to be making our way over a well-watered and fruitful region, until we reach at last the fountain of its fertility. . . . Near the base of a mountain range, early in the morning of the day and the spring of the year, you may have seen, in your solitary walk, a pillar of cloud, pure and white, rising from the earth to heaven. In the calm air its slender stem rises straight like a tree, and like a tree spreads out its lofty summit. Like an angel tree in white, and not like an earthly thing, it stands before you. You approach the spot and discover the cause of the vision. A well of water from the warm depths bursts through the surface there, and this is the morning incense which it sends right upward to the throne. But the water is not all thus exhaled. A pure stream flows over the well’s rocky edge, and trickles along the surface, a river in miniature, marked on both sides by verdure, while the barrenness of winter lies on the other portions of the field. . . . Such are the two outgoings of a believer’s life. Upward rises the soul in direct devotion; but not the less on that account does the life flow out along the surface of the world, leaving its mark in blessings behind it wherever it goes. You caught the spring by surprise at dawn, and saw incense ascending. At mid-day, when the sun was up, it rose unseen. . . . Thus is it in the experience of living Christians in the world. . . . The upright pillar is seldom visible, but the horizontal stream is seen and felt to be a refreshment to all within its reach.—Arnot.

the end.

Transcriber’s Notes

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