FORTY-THIRD SUNDAY

Morning

ESTHER PLEADING FOR HER PEOPLE

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Passages to be read: Esther iv. 1-17; v. 1-8.

REAT was the sorrow of the Jews when the news of the impending doom spread among them. The laws of the Medes and Persians were unalterable, and there was little hope of any respite. Many a Jewish father must have fervently wished that he had returned to Palestine when Cyrus gave permission. Now the opportunity was past; there could be nothing but a fearful looking for of judgment. But the heart of Mordecai did not fail him. It is in such hours that strong men show themselves.

So long as Esther loved him and was true to him, there was a gleam of light in the dark and angry sky. And our passage (which does not take us on to Esther's triumph) is a most inspiring and, indeed, thrilling story of what can be achieved by faith and heroism. There were high barriers now between Mordecai and Esther, but Mordecai overcame all difficulties. There was some estrangement between King Xerxes and his queen; it was at the risk of her life that she attempted anything, yet she made the attempt, with what success we shall see. It is a great thing to have a friend at court who will intercede before the throne in time of danger. Remember that there is One fairer than fifty Esthers, who ever liveth to make intercession for us.

NOW note first that elevation had not altered Esther. She had been a nameless and unnoticed girl once, so far as a beautiful young woman can ever be that. Then suddenly, and with one swift turn of fortune's wheel, she had been raised to a perilous and very dazzling splendour. It was enough to turn the calmest head. But Esther still held true to Mordecai; the God of Bethel was her only God; she could not cut herself away from Jewish sorrows, or live indifferent to Jewish tears. And if we knew nothing more of Esther than this fealty that no glories could destroy, we should reverence her as one of the noble women of the world. The Venetian ambassador, in one of his despatches, makes an illuminative reference to Cardinal Wolsey. He says that when Wolsey came to England he used to say, 'The king will do so and so.' Afterwards his words were, 'We shall do so and so'; and at last, 'I shall do so and so.' His was a great character ruined by elevation, and by the pride that dogs the steps of elevation. But Joseph and David and Esther were greater than he. Keats has a singularly beautiful sonnet that begins 'Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art '—and Esther means a star.

NEXT mark the safety that sometimes lies in venturing.

It was an act of daring to approach the king. He and his queen had been parted for a month. It was not in the interests of Haman's plot that a Jewess should have the royal ear, and no doubt Haman had worked for this separation. But of all this Esther knew nothing. She only knew she had fallen into disfavour. And there were tiring-women and chamberlains in plenty, to warn her of the awful consequences of intrusion. She took her life in her hand in venturing. Was there any likelihood that she should touch the sceptre? But Esther had a heart to feel what this means,' He that loseth his life for My sake shall find it.' Mr. Froude, in his fine story of the Elizabethan seamen, makes a remark about

the stirring affairs of that great time. 'Nothing,' he says, 'was to be gained by concession; the only salvation was in daring.' That was true of Esther in this crisis, and there are times when it will be true of every one of us. There are times when to be heroic is true prudence; when to venture nobly is to be doubly safe. When the call of Christ comes, 'Launch out into the deep,' everything may be lost for want of venturing. I think I can see the eyes of Esther burning as her bold plan sprang into shape before her. She did not know-though we know now that the One she served had eyes as a flame of fire.

AGAIN, we have a Court that is not hedged by barriers.

As we read our lesson one thing strikes us forcibly. It is the restriction that fenced in the Persian Court. It was supremely difficult for an outsider to get near the sacred person of the king. Mordecai could get no admittance because of his mourning-garb.

He was in sackcloth, and they that live in kings' houses wear soft clothing. And even the members of the royal family could not run when they pleased into the royal presence. They had to wait till the king summoned them. There was the terror of assassination in all this; there was the pride that must be fed in isolation; it may be there was a touch of shame, for there were countless deeds of darkness in the court. The Persian monarch styled himself 'king of kings,' and because he was that, his court was barred and guarded. But the King of kings whom we obey and worship has a door that stands wide open to the world. No one is barred because he is in mourning. He is doubly welcome in such garb. None are denied because they come unsummoned. The invitation is too wide for that. Let us read over this story again, till we realise how earthly courts are guarded, and we shall feel afresh the wonder and the joy of the audience and the presence of our King.

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ASTLY, let this be noticed in the chapter, that if we are advanced, it is to be God's instruments. 'Who knows,' said Mordecai to Esther, 'but that you were exalted, just that you might be of service in this hour,' and events showed that Mordecai was right. It was not for Esther's own glory or delight that God had given her this strange pre-eminence. It was that in the hour which was to strike, she might be instrumental in His hand. And if we are raised in the least above our fellows by any talent, or grace, or gift, or beauty, let us remember Esther in the palace, and hold what we have in trust for Esther's God.

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FORTY-THIRD SUNDAY

Evening

PETER AND JOHN BEFORE THE COUNCIL

Passage to be read: Acts iv. I-22.

N old writer has said that a miracle was like the bell before the sermon, it caught the attention of the people, and brought them together for the preaching of the Word. Now that was true of the miracle at the Gate Beautiful. As with the summons of some clear-toned bell, it brought a vast congregation to the disciples. And in the closing part of the third chapter, we have the sermon that Peter preached to them. But the miracle and the discourse which followed it were very abhorrent to the ruling powers. They thought that they had triumphed over Jesus, and here was His cause more visible than ever. Peter and John were apprehended instantly. They were going to the Temple, and were taken to prison instead. I think that Peter and John sang hymns that night, as lustily as Paul and

Silas did at Philippi. Then in the morning they were led before the rulers. The council of state was set, and they were stationed in the midst of it. And they were asked (as if the questioners did not know) by what authority or name they had done this? Peter, briefly, respectfully, and manfully, declared that the power had been the power of Jesus. He showed his auditors how prophecy was fulfilled. He declared that there was no salvation out of Christ. And though to the hearers this was hateful doctrine, and though they would willingly have silenced it for ever, yet there was the lame man— lame no more-among them, and that was an argument not to be gainsaid. What could be done? Was there no help for it? Could none devise means for stopping the rising tide? That most august and venerable council revealed their impotence in the course they took. They laid a charge on Peter and on John that the name of Jesus was not to pass their lips. They might as well have charged the breaking sea to cease its thundering when the tempest blew. Peter and John were bound to disobey. Even as Jews, must they not be loyal to God? So they were loosed, and being loosed, they went (as we all do) to their own company (v. 23).

NOW the first thing that arrests us here is this, how

ready we are to envy others' influence. You would have thought that the Pharisees and priests, having the interests of their land at heart, would have been heartily glad to get a lame man healed. You would have thought they might have argued like this, 'Whoever did it is a secondary matter; the great thing is that suffering has been ended, so let us all give thanks to God for that.' Instead of that we read that they were grieved. They were heart-harassed; they were quite sick with envy. If one of their own rank had wrought the miracle, it bad been well. But it was all wrong when Peter and John did it. Do you think that that spirit has quite died