October 1927
T h e
K i n g ' s
B u s i n e s s
635
And as He calls, “Follow Me,” we have the blessed assur ance that it is safe to follow where He leads. And we know that, for His name’s sake, He ever leads by paths that are right. “Holy and reverend is His name,” says the Scripture. “Just and holy is Thy name,” sings the sainted Charles Wesley. And He who bears such a name will surely lead by paths that are worthy of that name. P aths in P erilous P laces But paths that are right are frequently paths of peril. Yea, though I walk through the valley o f the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me.” In the shepherd country there are many ravines that bear terrify ing names, “The Valley of the Slain,” “The Ravine of the Raven,” “The Valley of Gloom.” Now we see our shep herd leading his flock through' the Valley of Deathlike Sha.de, for that is the meaning of this name. There is peril on every side as the pathway plunges into the shade. Perhaps lions, jackals, or other beasts of prey lurk in the deep gloom. But the shepherd walks ahead with a firm tread, unafraid. The sheep huddle close to him as he cries, Men-ah!” “Follow me.” They sense the pro tection of his rod and staff; the rod to beat off enemies, the staff (his crook) to guide his sheep and to draw them back should they stumble from the path. At. last the shadows are less intense; daylight increases. And he who has led the flock into the gorge guides through it and on and out. into the full blaze of day. . We humans are tragically alone. As Kipling has said, we are each of us, as it were, on a desert island from which we hail one another. Yet the blessed paradox is that we are never alone. In the darkest valley “Thou art with me. I like to read the story of Sir Ernest Shaddeton in the Antarctic seas._ After the loss of the Endurance he, with two companions, made his way in an open boat- a twenty-four-foot whaler—over eight hun- ^re<^ m^es stormswept sea, and then crawled and clambered over the dizzy peaks and glaciers of South Georgia in order that they might obtain succor for their twenty comrades marooned on Elephant Island. In his book, South, ’ he says, “When I look back upon those days, with all their anxiety and peril, I cannot doubt that our party was divinely guided, both over the snowfields and across the stormswept sea. I know that, during the long and racking march of thirty-six hours over the un named mountains and glaciers of South Georgia, it seemed to me, very often, that we were, not three, but four! I said nothing to my companions on the point, but after wards Worsley said to me, ‘Boss, I had a curious feeling on me march that there was Another Person with us.’ Grean confessed to the same idea.” T h e P repared T able . Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. Let us not lose the shepherd figure here, it is a duty of the shepherd to seek out new feeding- grounds for his sheep. He must find green, luxuriant grass. He must locate the poisonous and noxious plants and avoid them as he leads his flock. He must close the vipers holes lest they bite the noses of his sheep. Then, and only then, does he lead his flock in. This is their prepared table. But the enemies! The shepherd must close the dens of wild beasts with boulders and, if pos sible, slay the enemies. The shepherd is the protector of his flock as they feed in the presence of enemies, w i- I no scanty repast that God grants to His sheep. We And a peculiar joy in feeding on His bounty just when the trials are greatest. I believe that the Lord Himself de
lights in sending us .unexpected blessings. It is when we are cast hopelessly under the juniper tree that He bids us awake and eat of the full repast that He has pre pared. The shepherd now stands at the doorway of the sheepr fold. He himself is the door. -One by one the sheep pass in. Each is inspected before it is allowed to enter. Here is one with a foot bruised on the rocks. From his horn of olive oil the shepherd anoints the wound. Here is a sheep that is weary and exhausted from the heat and march of the day. The shepherd bathes its face and head with the soothing oil. Then, from a large vessel nearby, he dips a brimming cup of cold water. The sheep drinks and passes on. “Thou anointest my head with oil, my cup runneth over.” No scanty cup this, but one that over flows. _Does it not remind us that “He is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we can ask or think”? Now the day is over. The sun has gone down. The myriad stars are shining in a blue-black velvety sky. Within the fold, all is quiet as the sheep recline in sleep. They have wanted for nothing. Led by still waters, fed in green pastures, restored when wandering, guided aright, protected from peril, anointed and refreshed, safe folded they rest. Throughout this day, from dawn to dark, only goodness-and mercy have followed the flock. Surely they will continue to follow. And the sheep are content to dwell in the house of their shepherd forever. “Through many dangers, toils, and snares I have already come; ’Tis grace has brought me safe thus far, And grace will lead me home.” Let the psalm pronounce its own benediction. “Goodness and mercy all my life shall surely follow me, And in God’s house forevermore my dwelling-place shall be.”
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