outlines and suggestive comments.
Verse 14. We must all “enter” somewhere. We are all travelling. We all necessarily follow something. Don’t take the path of the wicked for it. That is the doctrine.—Miller.
Sin is like a whirlpool. He who once ventures within the circle of its eddying waters in the self-sufficient assurance that he may go a certain length, and then turn at his pleasure and stem the current back, may feel the fancied strength of the sinews of his moral resolution but weakness in the moment of need, and may—nay, almost certainly will—be borne on further and further, till, all power of resistance failing, he is carried round and round with increasing celerity, and sucked into the central gulf of irrecoverable perdition.—Wardlaw.
Jortin, in his remarks upon Ecclesiastical History, relates the story of a colloquy between a Father of the second century and an evil spirit in a Christian, whom he sought to expel. Upon inquiring how he dared be so impudent as to enter a Christian, the evil spirit replied, “I went not to church after him, but he came to the playhouse after me, and, finding him upon my own ground, I sought to secure him for myself.” Whatever becomes of the story, the moral of it deserves attention.—Leifchild.
We pray to be kept from temptation, and our practice ought not to contradict our prayers; otherwise, it is evident that we mock God by asking from Him what we do not wish to have.—Lawson.
Verse 15. This triple gradation of Solomon showeth, with a great emphasis, how necessary it is to flee from all appearance of sin. . . . Entireness (friendship) with wicked consorts is one of the strongest chains of hell, and binds me to a participation of both sin and punishment.—Brooks.
Come not near. 1. Because our corruption is so great that, if we come near it, we will both smell it with delight and smell of it. 2. Because wicked men stand upon the edge of their way to draw others into it, as thieves watch for their prey. 3. We may stumble into that way ourselves, if we be not pulled into it by others. He that walks on the brink of a river may fall in. There is but a narrow bridge between lawful and unlawful. And that which is lawful to-day may, by a circumstance, be made unlawful to-morrow.—Francis Taylor.
It would not be complaisance, but cowardice—it would be a sinful softness which allowed affinity in taste to imperil your faith or your virtue. It would be the same sort of courtesy which, in the equatorial forest, for the wake of its beautiful leaf, lets the liana, with its strangling arms, run up the plantain or orange, and pays the forfeit in blasted boughs and total ruin. It would be the same sort of courtesy which, for fear of appearing rude or inhospitable, took into dock the infected vessel, or welcomed, not as a patient, but as a guest, the plague-stricken stranger.—Jas. Hamilton.
Verses 16 and 17. The devil, their taskmaster, will not allow them time to sleep, which is very hard bondage.—Trapp.
The character of the wicked is here drawn in their father’s image—first sinners; then tempters. . . . Judas with his midnight torches (John xviii. 3); the early morning assembly of the Jewish rulers (Luke xxii. 66); the frenzied vow of the enemies of Paul (Acts xxiii. 12); and many a plot in after ages against the Church—all vividly pourtray this unwearied wickedness.—Bridges.