SIDE by side upon a page in the writer's album lie two pictures. One is a photograph taken in a German cemetery, the other a copy of a painting that attracted much attention at the Royal Academy Exhibition in 1904.
The first is a view of the tomb of a certain Countess of Hanover, who lived and died a pronounced infidel, a vehement hater of God, and a determined opponent of His people.
Before she died she designed the structure that was to surmount her grave. Human skill was to do its utmost to ensure the permanence and indestructibility of her resting-place. Huge solid blocks of granite were to be placed above the tomb, and one of them was to bear the inscription:
“THIS TOMB SHALL REMAIN
UNDISTURBED
THROUGHOUT ETERNITY.”
These impious words were evidently intended as a challenge to the God of resurrection. And the solemn part of the story is that God accepted the challenge, and used the occasion to prove His wisdom and might, and to confound the daring folly of the unbeliever.
It was years after the Countess had been buried that it came to pass.
God said to the frost, “Prove the folly of this infidel." And the frost heaved until in the massive masonry of the tomb there came a crack.
Then God said to the wind, "Prove her folly." And the wind blew until the crack was filled up with loose earth.
Then God said to the birds, "Prove her folly." And a bird carried a seed and dropped it into the crevice.
Then God said to the sun and the rain, "Prove her folly." The one poured down warm rays of sunshine, the other descended in refreshing showers, and under their combined influence the seed germinated and grew into a young plant. In course of time the plant became a tree. The tree gathered strength, and, lifting its trunk above the proud tomb, it pushed the great solid mass of granite aside. There, to this day, it may be seen, holding up the rock with the boastful inscription.
Oh, the madness of puny humanity pitting itself against the might of the Creator! He who formed our bodies can form them again after death has dissolved them. He whose word called the world into being can, and will, call our bodies from their graves, that we may give account of ourselves to Him.
Perhaps my reader is disposed to agree with every word that I have written. You, Sir, or you, Madam, would shrink from approving or imitating the foolish impiety of the Countess. But let me ask you to consider the other picture, lying on my album page alongside the first.
The original was painted by Sigismund Goetze, and bears the title—
“DESPISED AND REJECTED OF MEN.”
In the center of the picture stands a Figure which it would be better never to attempt to portray. No pen or brush can rightly depict the face "so marred more than any man," and the endeavor to do so does not strike us as becoming.
Still, there it stands, bowed with sorrow and suffering, the Figure of Him who came to be the world's Savior.
On the right hand and on the left a motley group is seen. There is, first of all, a racing man, with jockey, whip, and sporting paper. Then a scientist, holding before him a glass tube, absorbed in watching the result of some experiment. Then one of the butterflies of society, fresh from the ball-room, with her attendant cavalier, who bends over her as if whispering something in her ear. A little flower-girl is pressing a bunch of sweet violets upon the lady's notice. Behind the girl sits a desolate, forlorn-looking object, nestling her new-born babe to her breast.
On the right of the picture we see a socialist orator addressing a mob of men, who wave their hands and hats in frantic applause. A soldier is there in uniform and Brodrick cap; a vestment-clad ecclesiastic, with closed eyes and sanctimonious expression; a parson of a different school, with open book, endeavoring to argue with the priest; a hospital nurse; a student; a bare-armed workman with a pickaxe across his shoulder; a newsboy, upon whose placard we can trace out sensational announcements of a robbery, a divorce, and the winners of a race.
Of all the throng only the hospital nurse is turning to look upon the Savior, and she with a countenance more expressive of repugnance and dread than of anything else. The others, differing so widely in their character, their position, their occupation, their tastes, are alike in this respect, that they manifest the most absolute indifference to the One in the center of the picture. As far as they are concerned, He is truly the "Despised and Rejected.”
Yet they are samples of the men and women who surround us on every hand, denizens of this big world in which we live.
Possibly, if you were an acquaintance of the painter, he would have depicted you among the crowd. And if he had represented you as showing the same supreme indifference towards Christ as the others, would it not have been the truth?
You may not share the gross infidelity of the presumptuous Countess of Hanover, but are you one of the multitude to whom the Savior is "the Despised and Rejected"?
Have you ever turned to Him with gratitude in your heart for all that He has done for you? Have you ever looked to Him in faith? Have you cried to Him for salvation?
Or are you still amongst the indifferent and unconcerned? If so, there is a sermon for you in Goetze's painting. He who is now “Despised and Rejected "by the many is soon to appear in glory and power." Every eye shall see Him." (Rev. 1:7.) None will be indifferent then. Panic will seize those who are now so unconcerned.
Reader, your whole future destiny hangs upon your attitude towards Christ. If He is your accepted Savior and confessed Lord all will be well with you throughout countless years to come. If, on the other hand, you are still one of the thoughtless crowd to whom He is the "Despised and Rejected," no tongue or pen can describe the horror of the future that awaits you.
One more thing remains to be told. In the background of the picture stands an angel wrapped in gloom, as if unable to solve the mystery of earth's indifference to heaven's Lord.
A sight indeed it is for angels to muse over, that their Creator should offer Himself as a Savior for sinful men, and that men should not care to accept Him May I give you, once again, the invitation in my Master's name?
“Come! for angel hosts are musing
O'er this sight, so strangely sad;
God beseeching, man refusing,
To be made forever glad.”
Whether it is infidelity or indifference that keeps you from Christ matters little. Both are deadly. Either will rob you of your soul. Be persuaded: turn to the Lord at once and be blessed. "Incline your ear, and come unto Me: hear, and your soul shall live.” (Isa. 55:3.)
H. P. B.