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therefore turns to him, and addresses to him the parable of the Great Supper. It was meant to rouse that guest out of his self-complacency. It comes with the same message to you and me. There are few perils so great and so unnoticed as the peril of the neglected invitation.

A CERTAIN man, then, said our Lord, made a great supper. He sent his invitations for it freely. And when the table was served, and everything was ready, he despatched his servant with a courteous reminder, in accordance with an old custom of the East (Prov. ix. 3), which, as the travellers tell us, has not yet quite died out. But with one voice all the guests begged off. They were all busy-might they not be excused? And there was nothing for it but for the servant to go home again, and tell his master that they refused to come. Then the master was angry at his slighted welcome, for he saw clearly what the excuses implied. So he sent out his servant into the streets and lanes, and bade call in the poor and the blind and the lame, and we know that in the streets of Eastern cities a man does not walk far to light on these. It was done quickly; so quickly indeed that some would have it that the servant had anticipated his master's wish. But even yet, so spacious was the chamber, the places at the table were not all full. 'Away then, out through the city gates!' cries out the host. 'Away to the country roads, and to the hedge-banks, and compel the waifs and the vagrants to come in.' And I dare say the servant, looking through the hedges, saw the first guest, who had excused himself, strutting and fussing in his new piece of ground. But the house of the entertainer was filled at last. The door was shut, and the glad feast began. I wonder if the man who sat at the table with Jesus, and to whom this wonderful parable was spoken-I wonder if he was as ready now with his self-satisfied ejaculation, 'Blessed is he that shall eat bread in the kingdom of God.'

NOTE first that the kingdom of God is described as

a supper. That is the figure Christ chooses for it here. Now it is, of course, quite true that supper is an evening meal-it is the last meal of the day. And some have thought there was a hint in that of the final nature of the Gospel-call: as if God, who had fed the world with many an earlier banquet, closed His provision for the world's day with Jesus. But it is better and safer to remember that this meal called supper was the principal meal. It was the chief hour for appeasing hunger; it was the chosen time of fellowship and rest. And all these features of the supper-table, idealised long since in psalm and prophecy, made it very expressive, for our Lord, of the rich and varied blessings of His kingdom. Had not He come to satisfy men's cravings; to bring them to a knowledge of His Father? Had He not said, 'Come unto Me and I will give you rest'? Was He not often speaking of His joy? It was such things that were symbolised for Christ under this figure of the Gospel supper. Neither the mustard-seed nor yet the hidden treasure more truly and fully conveyed the message of God's grace, than did the great supper of our parable.

NEXT note the excuses of the invited guests, and see

first the points in which they differ. The first had bought a piece of ground-it was pride in what he possessed that kept him back. The second wanted to prove his yoke of oxen-it was the cares and the worries of his work that filled him. And the third had married a wife (and he was the only one who was uncivil: he had lost his manners since his marriage)—it was the ties and claims of home that hindered him. The guests all differed in their excuses, then, as men do still when they make light of the invitations of the Gospel. But at some points they all agreed, and we must note at least two of these. Firstly, not one of them was kept away by occupations sinful in themselves. Secondly, the root of the whole

matter was indifference: had they cared enough, they could all have gone. There was nothing sinful in buying a piece of ground. There was no harm in proving a yoke of oxen. But things that are quite lawful in their own place prove hindrances and offences in the first; and it was into the first place that these things had crept, with the men who all began to make excuse. Are you so busy and glad with other things that you are really indifferent to God? Is your whole day a silent prayer to God to have you excused from accepting His calls? God grant it be not so. 'Keep Christ in His own place--and His place is the first.'

I WANT you, lastly, to observe how the circle of the

invitation widens. There are first of all the duly invited guests. They had a long invitation to the supper, and when all things were ready they got another bidding. Then they refused, and the invitation widens; it extends through the lanes and streets of the town. But still the servant is within the walls; he has received no mandate to go through the gates. There may be many a hungry gipsy by the hedge, but no glad word of welcome reaches him. Then comes the last great widening of the circle, consequent upon the servant's word, 'yet there is room.' And away beyond the towers of the city, in the lawless and dangerous and beautiful environs of it, there is given the strange calling to the feast. So is it with the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. He came unto His own, and they received Him not; the guardians of the people's faith rejected Him; so He went to the lost sheep of the house of Israel, to the lanes and the streets of the old city of God. But the day was coming when an ascended Saviour was to say to His disciples, 'Go ye into all the world and preach the Gospel to every creature,' and in that day it is our joy to live. Every preacher who tells of a crucified Lord, and every missionary who in the zeal of love uplifts the cross in the far and darkened countries, does so because the Master has said to him, 'Compel them to come in.'

TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY

WH

Morning

DAVID AND GOLIATH

Passage to be read: 1 Sam. xvii. 32-54.

HEN this crisis in his life occurred, David was some eighteen or twenty years of age. The Philistines, anxious avenge their late disasters, had invaded Judah, and now in the valley of Elah the two camps lay facing one another. It was not unusual, in ancient warfare, for battles to be decided by challenge and single combat. The boys who are reading Homer in school will remember how Paris offered to fight with Menelaus. They will remember, too, from the first book of Livy, how the Horatii and the Curiatii made the fate of their countries hang on the issue of their battle. In the same way the Philistines staked everything on the prowess of their great champion Goliath. Goliath probably was of the stock of the Anakim-men of gigantic stature-who had been driven out of their haunts by Joshua and had been forced to take refuge with the Philistines (Josh. xi. 21-2); and according to Jewish tradition it was he who had slain Hophni and Phinehas, and had taken captive the ark of God. Well might the Israelites tremble day by day as they heard the shouted challenge in the valley. Well might they wonder when the news ran through the camp that a lad from Bethlehem was going out to fight. There had been gallant achievements wrought in Israel, but never a venture quite so bold as this. But the battle was the

Lord's and we know the issue. The stripling was victorious; the giant fell. And surely, in the strong music of many a psalm, we catch some echo of that decisive hour

NOTE

'Behold on those that do Him fear

The Lord doth set His eye;
Ev'n those that on His mercy do
With confidence rely.'

VOTE first that the memory of past help made David strong. Our memories can do much to make or mar us. They can almost make cowards or heroes of us all. And it is in the great hours of our career, when we are called to act or to decide, that memory wakes in her strange power to help us upward or to keep us back. If I have acted unworthily a score of times, what a deadweight is that memory of failure when at last I resolve to rise and play the man. But on the other hand there is nothing which can so cheer me, as the bright memory of bygone succour. Well, it was that heartening which David had. From the bear and the lion the Lord had delivered him. And David had so dwelt on these deliverances, as he herded his sheep among the lonely hills, that his trust in God had grown into a passion. The power that freed him from the lion's paw would never fail him when he faced the giant. He had been signally helped upon the hills, and he would not be deserted in the valley. And there was such a note of triumph about him, when he recounted to Saul these past deliverances, that Saul could say nothing to the lad save 'Go, and the Lord be with thee.' Have you no memories like that of David? Has God never freed you in an hour of need? Cherish the thought of it as David did; be sure it will be wanted by and by. Some day you will be face to face with your Goliath, some day for you there will be a giant to fight, and it will fortify and garrison your heart to have remembrances of help from God.

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