THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. CHAPTER I. THE FATHER. "HE who thinks," says Jules Simon, "of the family tie, who feels the sweetness and beauty of family relationship, needs no other proof than this that the hand which has made us is truly a paternal one. O God! O Parent of the world! Thy providence will for ever be adored and comprehended by the heart of a father." The last word of defective science, of false philosophy, and of idolatrous systems, comes a long way short of saying "Father." How much there is in that name! What a light it throws upon "the riddle of the painful earth!" What a "Rock of Ages: it is for the weak and weary heart of man! Beauty, order, law, and force have doubtless their deep meanings for thoughtful minds, but there is a deeper depth for both thought and feeling in the word Father. Gathering up into itself all that is great in God and good B for man, all other names about which poets dream and philosophers speculate, and at which superstition trembles, pale in its presence as pale the stars when the sun is shining. When the soul's ear has once heard the sound of it, and the heart has once felt its touch, and memory brings up, as Henry Vaughan says,— "These early days, when I Shined in mine angel-infancy;" a great desire takes possession of the soul, akin to that of Bunyan's when he says, "I wished with all my heart that I might be a little child again." To have grieved, offended, and angered such a Father, is the darkest shadow that rests upon the soul's life. To be allowed to come back, though broken and bruised by many a fall over many a stumbling stone, and yet find Him a Father, and still be allowed to call Him by that name, is surely the greatest joy the heart can feel. "I am the Father's child." Is there anything in science, in philosophy, or in theology, to hinder a man from saying that? If there be, can there then be anything in such spheres of thought, or indeed in any sphere of thought whatever, that can have anything like a permanent and powerful influence upon his life for good? "By whom shall Jacob arise?" This old question has some meaning still for these new times. What can the fugitive expect who has nowhere to run but up the winding stair of some ruined tower? The heavens are scarcely to be reached by that road, and the bosom of the earth is too cold and hard to offer any inducement to him to fling himself down again. The elevators of man are not likely to lift him far if they exclude from their appliances the one thought whose influence we might expect him most permanently to feel. With the far up heavens above him and the hard cold earth beneath, there is nothing for him but to sit down in despair. The propagandists of doctrines, whose logical outcome can be nothing short of mental and moral paralysis, can scarcely be looked upon as bringing good news to men. It was otherwise with Jesus Christ and with the most successful of His disciples. We know how frequently the name Father was uttered by the Saviour. It was His central thought, round which He gathered an endless number of luminous circles. Worlds of anticipation and of retrospection burst upon the view as Jesus Christ teaches men to think about the Father. The broad shadows that have fallen upon life's highway grow thin and pass away. The |