ONE evening in November, some young friends were walking with me across a broad, open heath, where we had a splendid view of the sky, quite uninterrupted by trees or houses.
The weather had been damp and foggy for a long time, and night after night not a star had been visible. But that day the weather suddenly changed, and, to the great delight of the children, the sun shone out quite brightly all day, and when it sank from our view, it was succeeded by the gleaming light of a host of stars. And by the moon also, which, however, did not succeed in hiding some of our old acquaintances; among them the Bear and Cassiopeia, as usual, were conspicuous.
As we walked quickly along in the sharp, frosty air, we noticed several groups that we then saw for the first time that winter. But some of my companions looked vainly for one glorious group, and at last I heard one say, “I should think it must be time soon for Orion to appear; we have not seen it yet." And her words remind me that I have not told any of you that you will look in vain for Orion until towards the middle of November. Then you will see it, seeming as if it were climbing the eastern sky, and each evening approaching a little nearer the West, until early in April it at last sinks quite from view in the golden and purple glory of the West.
“I almost think I like the dear old Bear and Cassiopeia better than Orion," says one of my friends—though Orion is so grand and wonderful—for they stay with us all the year round, and Orion is only a visitor for the winter, and then goes off somewhere else. But I am very glad to see it again when it does come.
Sirius, too, the most magnificent of all the single stars, rises a little later than Orion, and is stationed a little to the east of this constellation, so that it seems to wait in attendance upon it. I do not think any of you can mistake it, for Sirius is the brightest of all the stars in the heavens. It first appears above our horizon in the evening at the end of November, and after lending us its golden light through the dark nights of winter, it says farewell to us at the close of March.
I am sure you will all suppose that this brightest of stars would be one of the first to attract the observation of astronomers, and some of them have at last succeeded in measuring its probable distance from the earth. But the number of miles in figures is so immense that it conveys no tangible idea to our minds. We can better estimate it when we learn the enormous speed at which light travels—no less than 185,000 miles in a single moment of time—yet at this wonderful rate, astronomers tell us, the golden rays from Sirius take twenty-two years in their journey to our earth. So the rays that meet our eyes in this year of 1886 perhaps left their home in 1864.
In the days of Egypt's greatness among the nations of the earth, when the Pharaohs ruled in their stern dignity over the land, this beautiful star Sirius performed the office of a sentinel to the dwellers on the Nile, for its rising foretold the eagerly looked-for day when the overflowing waters of their beautiful river should bring fertility and beauty to the land on its banks.
Now as we look up at Sirius to-night, just think that Joseph, when in his princely position next to the king, may have watched for this same gleaming point on the blue space beyond, when the years of famine were over, and the land was once more to see its waving crops of grain spring up, and ripen in the rays of the sun that gladdens our world today.
Does it not make you feel what a mere moment of time our tiny lives down here really are? Think of the ages that have rolled away since the watchers on the banks of the Nile looked out night after night for Sirius, until at last they saw it rise, and knew that then they must prepare for the flooding of their fields and gardens. And still the same star shines through its appointed course; but where are they who then waited for it? Gone—all gone! and age after age has rolled on until this year in which we live, and yet the precious pity and love and mercy of God has waited all those ages, that this one little world may learn something of His mighty power and love.
What a glorious thing, too, it is to live on this earth. We know that it is only one out of many others that revolve ceaselessly around the sun that shed sits life-sustaining light upon it; and we know that that sun is only one out of countless millions of others that may each be lighting up a perfect system of worlds, and out of them all, God looked upon this earth, and for love of those upon it He even suffered His own holy Son to come down to this earth, to teach us who and what God is.
Did you ever think that we could never have known God but for that? His glory, as another has said very beautifully, we may see in part, when we learn something of these starry wonders of which we have been getting a few glimpses. Think of the worlds that crowd the Milky Way; think of the distance that separates sun from sun; and we cannot help seeing something of the glory of God. Think of His almighty power, who moves all these millions of worlds, and keeps them passing onward age after age, in the path He has marked out for them; not one of them ever swerving from their course so much as the thickness of a spider's web.
A devout astronomer once said, that if all the strength of all the people who had ever lived on this earth could be centered into one mighty arm, that arm could not move even this one world a single foot in a thousand years. Yet the power of our God—our Father—keeps all the worlds in perpetual motion. His mighty hand directs the course of all the myriads that sweep onward in their majestic grandeur, and tell those who have ears to hear it, how unsearchable is the almighty power of the One who yet says to those who own Him as Savior—"I call you not servants, but friends.”
We admire the wisdom of men who, after long years of constant, persevering study, have found out the motions of the planets, and measured their distances from the sun, and learned their size and weight. But what of the wisdom of that One who set every single one of the systems in their places—every solitary star having its own orbit, its own time; so that amid all the army of heaven, not one ever clashes with the other—all is in the most perfect order and harmony.
Dear friends, does it not make you feel that you can only praise Him more and more for His love that has chosen to take us up and teach us a little of what He is? And does it not make you feel that our lives here are too short, to waste any of the precious moments in the foolish things that take our hearts away from this One, whose power and wisdom and glory are shown us even in the stars that shine over our heads?
But not His love. Ah, no; Jesus, the Savior, alone has shown us that! We look for it in vain anywhere else. And we want that love every minute of every hour of our lives. If Judas had known that love, he would never have gone away and put an end to that life that had become, by his sin, too heavy a burden to be borne. And if you and I had known that love, we should never have stayed away from Him as long as we did.
Just now I remember the case of a poor wretched man, who lived near my home, who had heard of that love, but turned carelessly away from it—thinking, I suppose, that there was time enough.
He had been warned, I suppose, from what he said after he was struck down by sudden and fatal illness, as he was working in the field again in life. It was not far from his home, and he was carried to it and laid on his bed, never to rise from it.
When he was told that he was dying, his agony was something awful to behold—and I only mention it now to warn any of you not to turn away from the love of God, lest you, too, come to the same end. When gently told that he had but a short time to live, he exclaimed, “Then I am going to hell—going to hell," repeating these terrible words over and over again.
His friends asked if he would not have some Christian, who lived near, sent for, hoping that he might bring some ray of hope; but he replied, "It is no use: I turned my back upon God when I was well, and He will not hear me now." And when someone spoke to him of believing in Christ even then, he only uttered these awful words, like a wail of despair, "It is too late, too late: I have turned my back upon God, and He will not hear me now; I am going to hell, going to hell." And so he died.
I shudder as I think of it. Years have passed away since it was told me, by one who knew the circumstance at the time it occurred, and I have always felt a thrill of horror in recalling it.
Do not trifle with the love of God—do not turn away and think there is time yet for you. Your time here may be ended as suddenly as that poor man's was, and then you may find that for you also it is “too late.”
Many of you, I rejoice to know, are resting in that love; feebly and faithlessly, we must all own, do we live now for Him. But it makes all the difference between a soul saved or lost, whether we are resting in it or not.
You and I may be like the very tiniest of the stars that we look up at and can scarcely see; still the faintest glimmer of light tells us that there is a star there. And the feeblest little child, who really does trust the Savior, is one of those of whom that Savior has said that they “shall.... shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father." (Matt. 13:4343Then shall the righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Who hath ears to hear, let him hear. (Matthew 13:43).)
Think of that, little friends! If you and I are amongst those who have owned that they are utterly lost—and have trusted in the Son of God as their Savior—then one day we shall shine as brightly as we could wish, and all for Him. And we shall never leave off shining.
There are stars in the heavens that appear for a time, and shine most brilliantly, and then pass away, never to be seen again, as far as we know.
Many years ago, a most beautiful star suddenly made its appearance in our constant friend Cassiopeia: you may fancy how very bright it was, for at one time it was visible for several days, even in the day time. Then its luster gradually paled—it became less and less bright, until, after being a gleaming white orb, it became yellow, then its brilliancy grew of a reddish tint, and at last, as it disappeared, it seemed to melt away in a bluish faint light that vanished altogether, and has never since returned, after having been an object of wonder for about a year and a half.
Where has it gone—what was it? None of all the great and learned men, who spend their time in observing the stars, can tell us. None on earth can solve the problem.
And then again, stars that have for ages been known and marked, have now quite faded away—gone— and no researches have yet been able to find out the reason of their disappearance. He who made them, alone knows the cause. They faithfully shone for Him at His bidding, and at His bidding they ceased to shine. That is all we can say about them.
Still it is none the less wonderful. But they who trust our Savior will not be at all like this: they will not shine for a time and then disappear forever. There will be no end to the glory of the redeemed of Jesus.
God also speaks of those who teach others the way to the Savior, as shining as the stars forever and ever. We do not know when they were created—the stars, I mean—for, as I dare say some of you know, when we are told of God creating the sun and the moon, it does not really say that He then formed or created the stars.
Indeed, it speaks of the sun and moon as being made as two lights, the lesser light to rule the night; and simply adds, "the stars also." So we get no data as to the time that they have flashed and glittered through the infinite void that may be as measureless as eternity itself.
And have you ever thought, friends, that long after this earth has passed away, they may go on telling out the glory of Him who formed every radiant point of light? Every world that He has formed speaks aloud of its Creator. And I think that even children cannot carefully notice the brilliant star groups over their heads without seeing a design in their order.
We see at a glance that it was no chance that set each one in so carefully regulated a system, so exquisitely ordered that in the case of some whose motions have been most minutely observed and recorded, not a single moment's change in the time occupied by those motions has occurred for the long period of two hundred years. So beautiful is the perfect harmony that rules there.
And why is it so? Because each one obeys the voice of its Master. If you and I always did that, there would be nothing but harmony and order and beauty in our lives. It is just because we forget to whom we belong, and set out to please ourselves, that ever we get fretted and worried and out of temper; and we never get right until we retrace our steps and get back to where we were before we began to walk in a path of our own choosing. Did you ever know a disobedient child who was a happy child? I never did. Obedience leads to happiness, and as I say the words, I feel how utterly they condemn me. But I like to think that our Master has all power in His hands, so He can work in our hearts and make us obedient even now, if we desire it.
We can never compute the influence that we have upon every person with whom we are associated, if we are obedient; and, indeed, whether we are so or not, the fact that we ever influence others remains the same.
I will just give you an example of what I mean. I know two sisters, one of whom is in bad health, and suffers a great deal of pain; the other one is stronger and bright and cheerful, and I do not at all suppose she has any idea of the influence she exercises over the weaker one. When the one has perhaps passed a day of much pain and goes home from her daily work, and finds her sister busily working away and perhaps softly singing a hymn as she does it, she who perhaps came in depressed and weary—forgetting that a perfect Love ordered every throb of pain, and only feeling a desire to lay down this weary house of clay (her tired body)—has suddenly felt how ungrateful and complaining she has been, who had been looking at the thorns in her way instead of fixing her eyes upon the stars of blessings, and good things that were around and above her path through this world.
And here again we find that, in the region of the heavens, there is an analogy to this; for there, planet so influences planet, that when certain irregularities have been observed in one, it has been at once known that another planet must be near it, to have caused these irregularities, though the disturbing wanderer or planet may be, and indeed is, invisible to the naked eye, and must be sought for. And this has been done more than once or twice, and intensely interesting is the record of these searches. As they belong to the planets, and our talks must be confined to the stars, for the present, we must leave these till a future time.
But I want us all to think a little more of the influence we exercise one over another. Why, even the way you may shake hands with your friends has an influence. I know persons whose cold touch of the tips of one's fingers in shaking hands, always gives me a shivery feeling, as though their apology for shaking hands was meant to make one feel that they would much rather not do it at all.
Another will grasp your hand so heartily that you have a glow of warmth and friendliness all over you. We want a little warmth in this cold world—there is quite enough ice without our efforts to produce more. And we must never forget, that but for deep, deep Love, you and I could never walk along in the precious sunshine of God's favor.
When I say this, I mean it for those “who have known and believed the love that God hath to us." (1 John 4:1616And we have known and believed the love that God hath to us. God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. (1 John 4:16).) For such, life is a period of time spent in the unclouded light of His presence where His abiding love has brought us. That is God's side of it—we often make clouds, and so darkness. Has it ever crossed your mind what “the blackness of darkness forever” must be, shut out in the awful distance from God that that must mean?
And yet we know that there are persons whom God, by His servant Jude, speaks of as “wandering stars," for whom this fearful darkness is reserved. They were—and may we not change it to the present tense and say they are—those who had never known what it was to have Christ Jesus Himself as the one, great, central object for their hearts and by whom their course is marked out. These were wandering stars, going where they liked, as they imagined; but in reality going to this horrifying place of remotest distance from the very One who would have set them in His own marvelous light, if they would have allowed Him to do so.
I remember an old friend of my father, once telling us that in the Crimean war—through the whole of which he passed—the greatest suffering to the soldiers was that caused by the nights spent in what are called the trenches. These are deep ditches dug or cut in the earth to prevent the approach of an enemy, or to serve as a means of defense. And the darkness of a winter night, passed at the bottom of one of these trenches, was what this soldier regarded as the most painful endurance of the whole campaign.
Think of an eternity of darkness, because the Light while here was refused!