195. Silver Wings

Silver Wings

Psa_68:13 : ’93Though ye have lain among the pots, yet shall ye be as the wings of a dove covered with silver, and her feathers with yellow gold.’94

You doubtless know what the Israelites did down in Egyptian slavery. They made bricks. Amid the utensils of the brick-kiln there were also utensils of cookery’97the kettles, the pots, the pans, with which they prepared their daily food’97and when these poor slaves, tired of the day’92s work, lay down to rest, they lay down amid the implements of cookery and the implements of hard work. When they arose in the morning they found their garments covered with the clay and the smoke and the dust, and besmirched and begrimed with the utensils of cookery. But after a while the Lord broke up that slavery, and he took these poor slaves into a land where they had better garb, bright and clean and beautiful apparel. No more bricks for them to make. Let Pharaoh make his own bricks. When David, in my text, comes to describe the transition of these poor Israelites from their bondage amid the brick-kilns into the glorious emancipation for which God had prepared them, he says, ’93Though ye have lain among the pots, yet shall ye be as the wings of a dove covered with silver, and her feathers with yellow gold.’94

Miss Whately, the author of a celebrated book, Life in Egypt, said she sometimes saw people in the East cooking their food on the tops of houses, and that she had often seen, just before sundown, pigeons, and doves, which had, during the heat of the day, been hiding among the kettles and the pans with which the food was prepared, picking up the crumbs which they might find’97just about the hour of sunset would spread their wings and fly heavenward, entirely unsoiled by the implements amid which they had moved, for the pigeon is a very cleanly bird. And as these pigeons flew away the setting sun would throw silver on their wings and gold on their breasts. So you see it was not a far-fetched simile, or an unnatural comparison, when David, in my text, says to these emancipated Israelites, and says to all those who are brought out of any kind of trouble into any kind of spiritual joy, ’93Though ye have lain among the pots, yet shall ye be as the wings of a dove covered with silver, and her feathers with a yellow gold.’94

Sin is the hardest of all taskmasters. Worse than Pharaoh, it keeps us trudging in a most degrading service; but after a while Christ comes, and he says, ’93Let my people go,’94 and we pass out from among the brick-kilns of sin into the glorious liberty of the Gospel; we put on the clean robes of a Christian profession, and when at last we soar away to the warm nest which God has provided for us in heaven, we shall go fairer than a dove, its wings covered with silver, and its feathers with yellow gold.

I am going to preach something which some of you do not believe, and that is that the grandest possible adornment is the religion of Jesus Christ. There are a great many people who suppose that religion is a very different thing from what it really is. The reason men condemn the Bible is because they do not understand the Bible; they have not properly examined it. Dr. Johnson said that Hume told a minister in the bishopric of Durham that he had never carefully examined the New Testament, yet all his life warring against it. Halley, the astronomer, announced his skepticism to Sir Isaac Newton, and Sir Isaac Newton said, ’93Now, sir, I have examined the subject, and you have not, and I am ashamed that you, professing to be a philosopher, consent to condemn a thing you never have examined.’94 And so men reject the religion of Jesus Christ because they really have never investigated it. They think it something impractical, something that will not work, something Pecksniffian, something hypocritical, something repulsive, when it is so bright and so beautiful you might compare it to a chaffinch, you might compare it to a robin redbreast, you might compare it to a dove, its wings covered with silver, and its feathers with yellow gold.

But how is it if a young man becomes a Christian? All through the club-room where he associates, all through the business circles where he is known, there is commiseration. They say, ’93What a pity that a young man who had such bright prospects should so have been despoiled by those Christians, giving up all his worldly prospects for something which is of no particular present worth!’94

Here is a young woman who becomes a Christian, her voice, her face, her manner the charm of the drawing-room. Now all through the fashionable circles the whisper goes, ’93What a pity that such a bright light should have been extinguished, that such a graceful gait should be crippled, that such worldly prospects should be obliterated!’94 But it can be shown that religion’92s ways are ways of pleasantness, and that all her paths are peace; that religion, instead of being dark and doleful and lachrymose and repulsive, is bright and beautiful, fairer than a dove, its wings covered with silver, and its feathers with yellow gold.

See, in the first place, what religion will do for a man’92s heart. I care not how cheerful a man may naturally be before conversion, conversion brings him up to a higher standard of cheerfulness. I do not say he will laugh any louder, I do not say but that he may stand back from some forms of hilarity in which he once indulged; but there comes into his soul an immense satisfaction. A young man, not a Christian, depends upon worldly successes to keep his spirits up. Now he is prospered, now he has large salary, now he has a complete wardrobe, now he has pleasant friends, now he has more money than he knows well how to spend, everything goes bright and well with him. But trouble comes’97there are many young men who can testify out of their own experience that sometimes to young men trouble does come’97his friends are gone, his salary is gone, his health is gone. He becomes sour, cross, queer, misanthropic, blames the world, blames society, blames the Church, blames everything, rushes, perhaps, to the intoxicating cup to drown his trouble, but instead of drowning his trouble drowns his body and drowns his soul.

But here is a Christian young man. Trouble comes to him. Does he give up? No. He throws himself back on the resources of heaven. He says, ’93God is my Father. Out of all these disasters I shall pluck advantage for my soul. All the promises are mine’97Christ is mine, Christian companionship is mine, heaven is mine. What though my apparel be worn out? Christ gives me a robe of righteousness. What though my money is gone? I have a title deed to the whole universe in the promise, ’91All are yours.’92 What though my worldly friends fall away? Ministering angels are my body-guard. What though my fare be poor and my bread be scant? I sit at the King’92s banquet.’94

What a poor, shallow stream is worldly enjoyment compared with the deep, broad, overflowing river of God’92s peace, rolling midway in the Christian heart! Sometimes you have gone out on the iron-bound beach of the sea when there has been a storm on the ocean, and you have seen the waves dash into white foam at your feet. They did not do you any harm. While there, you thought of the chapter written by the Psalmist, and perhaps you recited it to yourself while the storm was making commentary upon the passage: ’93God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in time of trouble. Therefore will I not fear though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. Selah.’94

How independent the religion of Christ makes a man of worldly success and worldly circumstances! Nelson, the night before his last battle, said, ’93Tomorrow I shall win either a peerage or a grave in Westminster Abbey.’94 And it does not make much difference to the Christian whether he rises or falls in worldly matters; he has everlasting renown any way. Other plumage may be torn in the blast, but that soul adorned with Christian grace is fairer than the dove, its wings covered with silver, and its feathers with yellow gold. You and I have found out that people who pretend to be happy are not always happy. Look at that young man caricaturing the Christian religion, scoffing at everything good, going into roystering drunkenness, dashing the champagne bottle to the floor, rolling the glasses from the barroom counter, laughing, shouting, stamping the floor, shrieking. Is he happy? I will go to his midnight pillow. I will see him turn the gas off. I will ask myself if the pillow on which he sleeps is as soft as the pillow on which that pure young man sleeps. Ah, no! When he opens his eyes in the morning, will the world be as bright to him as that young man who retired at night saying his prayers, invoking God’92s blessing upon his own soul and the souls of his comrades, and father and mother and brother and sister far away? No, no! His laughter will ring out from the saloon so that you hear it as you pass by, but it is hollow laughter; in it is the snapping of heart-strings and the rattle of prison gates. Happy! that young man happy? Let him fill high the bowl; he cannot drown an upbraiding conscience. Let the balls roll through the bowling-alley; the deep rumble and the sharp crack cannot overpower the voices of condemnation. Let him whirl in the dance of sin and temptation and death. All the brilliancy of the scene cannot make him forget the last look of his mother as he left home, when she said to him, ’93Now, my son, you will do right, I am sure you will do right! you will, won’92t you?’94 That young man happy? Why, across every night there flits the shadows of eternal darkness; there are adders coiled up in every cup; there are vultures of despair striking their iron beak into his heart; there are skeleton fingers of grief pinching at the throat. I come in amid the clicking of the glasses and under the flashing of the chandeliers, and I cry, ’93Woe! woe! The way of the ungodly shall perish. There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked. The way of the transgressors is hard.’94 Oh! my friends, there is more joy in one drop of Christian satisfaction than in whole rivers of sinful delight. Other wings may be drenched of the storm and splashed of the tempest, but the dove that comes in through the window of this heavenly ark has wings like the dove covered with silver, and her feathers with yellow gold.

Again I remark, religion is an adornment in the style of usefulness into which it inducts a man. Here are two young men. The one has fine culture, exquisite wardrobe, plenty of friends, great worldly success, but he lives for himself. His chief care is for his own comfort. He lives uselessly. He dies unregretted. Here is another young man. His apparel may not be so good, his education may not be so thorough. He lives for others. His happiness is to make others happy. He is as self-denying as that dying soldier, falling in the ranks, when he said, ’93Colonel, there is no need of those boys tiring themselves by carrying me to the hospital; let me die just where I am.’94 So this young man of whom I speak loves God, wants all the world to love him, is not ashamed to carry a bundle of clothes up that dark alley to the poor. Which of those young men do you admire the better? The one a sham, the other a prince imperial. Do you know of anything that is more beautiful than to see a young man start out for Christ? Here is some one falling; he lifts him up. Here is a vagabond boy; he introduces him to a mission school. Here is a family freezing to death; he carries them a scuttle of coal. There are eight hundred millions perishing in midnight heathen darkness; by all possible means he tries to send them the Gospel. He may be laughed at and he may be sneered at and he may be caricatured; but he is not embarrassed to go everywhere, saying, ’93I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ. It is the power of God and the wisdom of God unto salvation.’94 Such a young man can go through everything. There is no force on earth or in hell that can resist him.

I show you three spectacles:

Spectacle the First: Napoleon passes by with the host that went down with him to Egypt, and up with him through Russia, and crossed the continent on the bleeding heart of which he set his iron heel and across the quivering flesh of which went grinding the wheels of his gun-carriages’97in his dying moment asking his attendants to put on his military boots for him.

Spectacle the Second: Voltaire, bright and learned and witty and eloquent, with tongue and voice and stratagem infernal, warring against God and poisoning whole kingdoms with his infidelity, yet applauded by the clapping hands of thrones and empires and continents’97his last words, in delirium, supposing Christ standing by the bedside’97his last words, ’93Crush that wretch!’94

Spectacle the Third: Paul’97Paul, insignificant in person, thrust out from all refined association, scourged, spit on, hounded like a wild beast from city to city, yet trying to make the world good and heaven full; announcing resurrection to those who mourned at the barred gates of the dead; speaking consolations which light up the eyes of widowhood and orphanage and want with the glow of certain and eternal release; undaunted before those who could take his life; his cheek flushed with transport, and his eye on heaven; with one hand shaking defiance at all of the foes of earth and all the principalities of hell, and with the other hand beckoning messenger angels to come and bear him away, as he says, ’93I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand; I have fought the good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me.’94

Which of the three spectacles do you most admire? When the wind of death struck the conqueror and the infidel they were tossed like sea-gulls in a tempest, drenched of the wave and torn of the hurricane, their dismal voices heard through the everlasting storm; but when the wave and the wind of death struck Paul, like an albatross he made a throne of the tempest, and one day floated away into the calm, clear summer of heaven, brighter than the dove, its wings covered with silver, and its feathers with yellow gold.

Now I know it is very popular in this day for young men to think there is something more charming in skepticism than in religion. They are ashamed of the old-fashioned religion of the Cross, and they pride themselves on their free thinking on all these subjects. I want to tell you what I know from observation, that while skepticism is a beautiful land at the start, it is the great Sahara Desert at the last. Years ago a minister’92s son went off from home to college. At college he formed the acquaintance of a young man whom I shall call Ellison. Ellison was an infidel. Ellison scoffed at religion, and the minister’92s son soon learned from him the infidelity, and when he went home at vacation broke his father’92s heart by his denunciations of Christianity. Time passed on and vacation came and the minister’92s son went off to spend the vacation, and was on a journey and came to a hotel. The hotel-keeper said, ’93I am sorry that to-night I shall have to put you in a room adjoining one where there is a very sick and dying man. I can give you no other accommodation.’94 ’93Oh!’94 said the young college student and minister’92s son, ’93that will make no difference to me except the matter of sympathy with anybody that is suffering.’94 The young man retired to his room, but could not sleep. All night long he heard the groaning of the sick man, or the step of the watchers, and his soul trembled. He thought to himself, ’93Now there is only a thin wall between me and a departing spirit. How if Ellison should know how I feel? How if Ellison should find out how my heart flutters? What would Ellison say if he knew my skepticism gave way?’94 He slept not. In the morning, coming down, he said to the hotel-keeper, ’93How is the sick man?’94 ’93Oh!’94 said the hotel-keeper, ’93he is dead, poor fellow! the doctors told us he could not last through the night.’94 ’93Well,’94 said the young man, ’93what was the sick one’92s name; where is he from?’94 ’93Well,’94 said the hotel-keeper, ’93he is from Providence College.’94 ’93Providence College! what is his name?’94 ’93Ellison.’94 ’93Ellison!’94 Oh, how the young man was stunned! It was his old college mate’97dead without any hope. It was many hours before the young man could leave that hotel. He got on his horse and started homeward, and all the way he heard something saying to him, ’93Dead! Lost! Dead! Lost!’94 He came to no satisfaction until he entered the Christian life, until he entered the Christian ministry, until he became one of the most eminent missionaries of the Cross, the greatest Baptist missionary the world has ever seen since the day of Paul no superior to Adoniram Judson. Mighty on earth, mighty in heaven’97Adoniram Judson. Which do you like the best, Judson’92s skepticism or Judson’92s Christian life? Judson’92s suffering for Christ’92s sake, Judson’92s almost martyrdom?

Young man, take your choice between these two kinds of lives. Your own heart tells you the Christian life is more admirable, more peaceful, more comfortable, and more beautiful. If religion does so much for a man on earth, what will it do for him in heaven? That is the thought that comes over me now. If a soldier can afford to shout ’93Huzza!’94 when he goes into the battle, how much more jubilantly he can afford to shout ’93Huzza!’94 when he has gained the victory! If religion is so good a thing to have here, how bright a thing it will be in heaven! I want to see that young man when the glories of heaven have robed and crowned him. I want to hear him sing when all the huskiness of earthly colds is gone, and he rises up with the great doxology. I want to know what standard he will carry when marching under arches of pearl in the army of banners. I want to know what company he will keep in a land where they are all kings and queens forever and ever.

If I have induced one of you to begin a better life, then I want to know it. I may not in this world clasp hands with you in friendship; I may not hear from your own lips the story of temptation and sorrow; but I will clasp hands with you when the sea is passed and the gates are entered. That I might woo you to a better life, and that I might show you the glories with which God clothes his dear children in heaven, I wish I could swing back one of the twelve gates that there might dash upon your ear one shout of the triumph, that there might flame upon your eyes one blaze of the splendor.

When I speak of that good land, you involuntarily think of some one there that you loved’97father, mother, brother, sister, or dear little child garnered already. You want to know what they are doing this morning. I will tell you what they are doing. Singing. You want to know what they wear. I will tell you what they wear. Coronets of triumph. You wonder why oft they look to the gate of the temple, and watch and wait. I will tell you why they watch and wait and look to the gate of the temple. For your coming. I shout upward the news today, for I am sure some of you will repent and start for heaven. Oh! ye bright ones before the throne, your earthly friends are coming. Angels, poising mid-air, cry up the news. Gatekeeper of heaven, send forward the tidings. Watchman on the battlements celestial, throw the signal.

Autor: T. De Witt Talmage