[the higher than the
highest] shall smite thee, thou whited wall." But we hear no joyful
singing from him in connection with that indignant protest. On the
contrary, the beloved and faithful servant regrets it the next moment,
with "I wist not, brethren." Not so in the silent suffering of
"violent oppression" at Philippi. There he and his companion have
surely comfort beyond any that Solomon can offer, and the overflowing
joy of their hearts comes from no spring that rises in this sad desert
scene. Never before had prisoners in that dismal jail heard aught but
groans of suffering coming from that inner prison, from the bruised and
wounded prisoners whose feet were made fast in the stocks; but the
Spirit of God notes, with sweet and simple pathos, "the prisoners heard
them"; and oh, how mighty the testimony to that which is "above the
sun" was that singing! It came from the Christian's proper
portion,--your portion and mine, dear fellow-redeemed one,--for Jesus,
our Lord Jesus, our Saviour Jesus, is the alone fountain of a joy that
can fill a human heart until it gives forth "songs in the night," even
in one of earth's foul abodes of suffering and oppression. He is the
portion of the youngest, feeblest believer. Rich treasure! Let us
beware lest any spoil us of that treasure, for we can only "sing" as we
enjoy it.

But once more let us listen to what the highest, purest attainment of
the wisdom of man can give. And now he speaks of wealth and the
abundance of earthly prosperity which he, of all men, had so fully
tested. "He that loveth silver shall not be satisfied with silver, nor
he that loveth abundance, with increase"; and again there is the
sorrowful groan, "This is also vanity." "If goods increase," he
continues, "the household necessary to care for them increases
proportionately, and the owner gets no further satisfaction from them
than their sight affords. Nay, he who toils has a distinct advantage
over the wealthy, who is denied the quiet repose the former enjoys."
Carefully the Preacher has watched the miser heaping up ever, and
robbing himself of all natural enjoyment, until some disaster--"evil
travail"--sweeps away in a moment his accumulations, and his son is
left a pauper. And such, at least, is every man he marks, be he never
so wealthy, when the end comes. Inexorable Death is, sooner or later,
the "evil travail" that strips him as naked as he came; and then,
though he has spent his life i