SUNDAY READING.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 3982, 26 April 1884, Page 2 (Supplement)

SUNDAY READING.

SERMON BY THE REV. J. G. PATEKSON. Ruth, 2 eh. and 19 ver—" Where hast thou gleaned to-day." This short book of Ruth contains no startling incidents, no thrilling hairbreadth escapes, no marvellous manifestations of divine power, no wondrous victory of Israel over its enemies, but it has a charm of its own, a charm that never fails to rivet the attention of those who read and study it carefully. It gives us a simple, graphic, and truthful account of the manners and customs, as they existed in Israel, nearly three thousand years ago, not tho manners of the court, but the camp and the farm. It is the handiwork of a master. Some say that David was the author. Whether that be so or not I cannot say. There is much of its style like David, and it would only be natural that David had written this book, seeing it contained the early history of his great grandmother. Anyhow tho book is the hand of a master, one who, combining simplicity with pathos, can bring a scene so vividly before his readers that you seem to be in the midst of it, one who can so bring his characters beforo you that they seem as real as the people you meet every day. Certain frescoes havo been exhumed from buried cities, and those frescoes retain the freshness of their tints and tho beauty of their coloring just as vividly as tho day they were put on, and giving us a graphic account of tho manners and customs then existing. Now, I havo sometimes thought that this book of Ruth is like a biblical fresco, giving us an acconnt of tho manners of Palestine three thousand years ago j but not only is ifc of use to the biblical student, but to tho antiquarian as well. Let us try to give yon a short and brief sketch up to the time of the text. A famine has taken place in tho land of Israel. A family emigrates to Moab to escape the famine. Tbey had been some time in the land of Moab when the two sons married two daughters of Moab, the name of the one Orpat, and the otlier Ruth. If thoy expected to get away from trouble they were wrong in their expectations—trouble followed after them with the feet of lightning. They bad not been a long timo in Moab when Naomi's husband died and her

two sons, leaving her and her daughters-in-law widows. When these troubles came over Naomi she began to think of the house of her father, the home of her God, and she longs to see her native land. She was home sick, as many other immigrant has been since then, and she resolved to return home. Her two daughters-in-law go with her, after the way the Scotch call a convoy, they go with her a certain distance They were so much attached to their mother-in-law, that they were ready to leave home and kindred and their gods in the land of Moab and go with her to a strange country, but she was unwilling to take udvantage of their burst of enthusiasm, and so she told them plainly what they might expect if they went with her—life long widowhood and black poverty One was not prepared for this. She was ready to do a groat deal for her mother-in-law, but she went back to her own country, her own friends, and her own gods, and we hear no more of her, she passes for ever away from this history. But Ruth was very different; no earthly consideration would make her part with her mother-in-law, and the words in which she utters her decision are beautiful beyond expression— if I remember correctly they aro set to music, tho richest rarest music, "Intreat mo not to leave theo or to turn from following after thee, for whither thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgcst I will lodge ; thy peoplo shall bo my people, thy God nry God, tho Lord do so to me and moro also if aught but death part thee and me." The ship may sink, but she, nailing her colors to the mast, will go down with it, only death will part them. Not even death, for with her last words she will ask to be buried in the same grave with her mother-in-law. Surely never did the abundance of the heart, that finds expersion in elegant words, find expression in more elegant words than thoso I havo just quoted to you. And now Naomi reaches Bethlehem, the home of her father. She had beon absent ten years, and the people had not forgotten her. When they came to see her they were astonished that she was so changed, that this aged woman could possibly be the gay, pleasant, lighthearted Naomi —Hebrew words are always significant. Call me not Naomi, call mo Mare, for the Lord hath dealt bitterly with mo. When sho reached Bethlehem it was the time of harvest, and sho set to do somo work. Ruth did not mope nor complain of her hard fato ; sho did tho best thing sho could have done under the circumstances, she looked for something to do. She went out to tho fields to glean, a merciful provision allowed by tho law of Mosee. We aro told that sho went to tho field of Boaz. That is, it was accidental as far as she was concerned, but in tho purpose of God it was not accidental. He had brought her from the land of Moab, she that was to be the great grandmother of David, and tho future ancestress of tho Lord Jesus Christ. Her heart was to lighten tho field of Boaz —it was a small matter, but the turning point of her life. How often a small matter is the turning point in a man's life. The looking out of a window, a moeting in tho street, a walk in the field, an insignificant thing liko that has given tho color to a man's life ever after. The cackling of geese onco saved Rome. An apple falling from a tree gave Newton tho law of gravitation. Tho lifting of the lid of a kettle led to tho discovery of the steam engine by Watt. A reed suggested to Columbus another continent on tho other side of the ocean. And a small matter to Ruth brought her into the golden geneaology of the Saviour of tho world. How beautifully, graphic is the description of the harvest field in this beautiful biblical idyll. Grand swarthy men striking their sickles into the barley ; sun-burned womon gleaming amid the sheaves ; Boaz, the kind, warm-hearted farmer with his word of cheer and encouragement to all the gleaners ; but he paid most attention to the stranger from the land of Moab, who had left her homo and her gods to be kind to an aged woman. I know not what like she was, whether sho was dark or fair, whether her features were regular or irregular, plain or beautiful, but this I know, that when the Lord God Almighty sets behind a woman's features the lamp of courage and faith, and self-sacrifice, she has a glory altogether independent of feature, So Boaz was kind to her. I know he would have looked after her if sho had been old and wrinkled. So kind was Boaz to her, that when sho came homo, she had gleaned far more than could be expected, and hor mother-in-law asked hor this question, where hast thou gleaned to-day. Let me try and draw one or two spiritual lessons from it- The field is tho world. Wo are all gleaners in this fiold. Somo gather great sheaves, others handfuls of grain. Here and there every day God throws down handfuls from time's granary. Just tako ono day for instance, and sco how a man gleans. He rises up in the morning and goes out. All nature invites him. Tho trees ring with tho music of birds. The grass is glittering like diamonds. From looks, from words, from smiles, lie gleans. Ho goes out into tho world. From tho conversations ho hslds with others, from the books he reads, from the bargains he makes, from all of these he gleans. He is adding to his character, he is doing certain things that mould, and fashion, and make him what he is. Wheroin does a man's worth consist ? Docs it consist in what he has ? A man's worth consists, not in what he has, but in what ho is. What a man has may be taken from him, his property may be taken from him in a singlo day, he may bo stripped of all ho possesses, his health may prevent him from enjoying what ho has. The knowledge a man has gleaned, the moral and spiritual culture he has gained, the character he has built up for himself, what can destroy that —what can take away that ? Nothing can destroy it. You often hear expressions liko this, a man is made. Henry Ward Beecher says,'what do wo mean when we say a man is a made man ? Do wo mean that the man has got the control of his lower faculties, that they become subordinate to his higher nature, adding strength to his soul ? That his intellect has been so developed that he can go into the hall of knowledge and gather, that ho draws beautiful things from tho beautiful things of life ? Doos it mean that his moral nature has boon so elevated that he has built up a lofty, and pure, and noble character ? It doos not mean that ; it means that a man has gained £100,000, and ho is a made man. You hear tho expression, a man is ruined. Does it mean his wife and family aro takon away from him by sickness ? Doos it mean his character has been stolen by slander ? Docs it mean ho is stricken by disease ? It does not mean that; it means that his property is lost and ho is ruined. Tho man ruined. How long will it be till we como to sco that a man's life consistcth not in tho abundance of tho things which he possesseth ? Now how are we to attain this character ? We arc not born with it, wo will not glide into it, wo will not wako some morning and find wo are in possession of it. Our character has beon gleaned at intervals from the field of the world, from the external circumstances of our life, from many things around us. Evory day we aro gleaning, and God is putting us in a position to glean, and the things I can glean are mine in the highest and truest sense of tho word. What qualification must a man possess in order that he may glean out of the field of tho world these things which will go to the building of an honest character? In tho parable of the sower the good ground is tho heart. Put a magnet whero there aro grains of sand, and pieces of iron, and pieces of earth. The magnet will draw to it only the iron. Put tho good and honest heart whero there is evil and good, and the good heart will only draw to it and attract the good—the evil heart sees only that which is evil. On tho same highway the ragpicker will gather his rags for his bag, but the artist will collect tho shifting beauty of hill and vale. On the same pond grow sido by side the white and yellow lillies ; tho one gathers whitness and purity, and tbo othor yellowness and no fmgranco- Thero aro somo of us who have been gleaning in God's harvest field for many a year, some fifty somo sixty, some seventy years, till our hair is white and our steps feeble. I ask you this morning solemnly in God's name what you have gleaned from the harvest field, from all God's mercies to you ? What will you Bay when God calls you to judgment ? _ When He says, I gave you many opportunities, I brought you up in a comfortable home, in a favored family ; you had many means of grace, what have you gleaned ? Ob, how i solemn it is to live, for every book we read, every conversation wo have/every friend wo make, every thought that passes through our minds, goes to the formation of that character, which is the only thing we will carry with us into the eternal world. j