Emblems from Eden

Waking up to conscious existence in the midst of a garden, it would seem as if man had not entirely forgotten the wonderful vision on which his eyes then opened. At least, there is no passion more general than the admiration of beautiful flowers. They kindle the rapture of infancy, and it is touching to ?eo how over the first king-cups or daisies its tiny hand closes more eagerly than hereafter it will grasp silver coins or golden. The solitary blossom lights a lamp of quiet gladness in the poor man’s chamber, and in the palace of the prince the marble of Canova and the canvas of Raffiielle are dimmed by the lordly exotic with its calyx of flame or its petals of snow. With these companions of our departed innocence we plait the bridal wreath, and, scattered on

IB the coffin, or planted on the grave, there seems a hope of resurrection in their smile, a sympathy in their gentle decay. And whilst to the dullest gaze they speak a lively oracle, in their empyrean bloom and unearthly fragrance the pensive fancy recognises some mysterious memory, and asks, —

“Have we been all at fault? Are we the sons Of pilgrim sires who left their lovelier land? And do we call inhospitable climes By names they brought from home?”

But in the midst of that primeval Garden the eye was arrested by two objects, of v/liicli the counterpart cannot now be found in the field or the forest. One of these was “the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil,” — regarding which God said, “Thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die.” The other was “the Tree of Life,” which possessed a supernatural virtue. To eat of it was to live for ever. Its fruit was the antidote of death and the means of sustaining man in his original immortality.

The Tree of KncwlcdGre was a test of obe- (hence. Any act of transgression would have forfeited man’s tenure of Paradise; but in making a covenant with Adam God was pleased to select one special form of abstinence as the criterion of his self-denial and his loyalty. Around this Tree, so “good for food” and so “pleasant to the eyes,” the Supreme Lawgiver reared a fence, and saying, “Thou shalt not eat of it,” He concentred man’s attention on a single point, and, so to speak, reduced his trial to a single issue. But the subtilty of Satan and the attractions of the forbidden tree proved too strong for man’s loyalty. He took the tempting fruit. He ate, and was undone.

The Tree of Life was a token of the Creator’s preserving care and a memento of the creature’s dependence. What like it was we do not know, but it possessed a marvellous efficacy. As long as man ate of it he could not die: and it has been ingeniously suggested that the protracted lives of the antediluvians were owing to the power of this Paradisaic antidote lingering for ages in the human constitution. But however this may be, the Tree was a type of the one Great Source of Inimortality. It taught the creature that ho was not his own preserver. It reminded him that the “Fountain of Life” was external to himself, and that the only security for his own life’s prolongation was the constant command of this soul-gladdening and life-confirming sustenance. And most likely every time that he partook of it he was conscious of an intenser immortality Possibly the consummation of each day’s lightsome labour, and coincident with those visits of his Heavenly Father which made so welcome the cool of the day, we can imagine him resorting to the spot where stood the sacramental symbol, — its very continuance a sign that on either side the covenant continued still inviolate, — devoutly stretching forth his hand to the laden bough, and whilst he and his partner ate the mystic fruit, which filled all tlisir being with celestial joy- and raised them nearer tb the angels, overhearing from above the voice of God, answering with their evening hymn, and then sinking into hallowed slumber beneath the sacred shadow.

After man’s transgression, the Tree of Life ceased to be accessible. Lest, in his desperation, man should rush to it, and by its mistimed use entail on himself immortal misery, God sent him forth from the garden of Eden, and with a flaming sword and cherub-sentiiiels guarded every avenue. And now the gates of the primeval Paradise are closed. That short dispensation is ended. That covenant is broken beyond all possibility of reparation; and in this world there is no longer any innocent creature to whom God can say what he said to Adam, “Do this and Uve.”

But there is still a Tree of Life. Instead of abandoning our guilty race to self-entailed destruction, in His unspeakable mercy, God has interposed, and in the mission and atonement of His own dear Son has provided a salvation for sinners of mankind. And throughout the inspired records, the Saviour and His work are repeatedly introduced under the veil of this most ancient emblem.

In Ezekiel’s vision of the Temple Waters we are told, that on the bank of the river “shall grow all trees for meat, whose leaf shall not fiide, neither shall the fruit thereof fail: every month they shall bring forth fruit b2

6 t.’klliLEMS FROM EDEN.

nXresli: and the fruit thereof shall be for meat, find the leaf thereof for medicine: “a passage predicting that great outburst of Gospel bless’ ings with which the Church of Christ is yet to surprise herself and renovate the world, and which connects itself so obviously with John’s vision of the New Jerusalem: “And lie showed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb. In the midst of the .street of it, and on either side of the river, was there the Tree of Life, which bare twelve fruits, and yielded its fruit cvcrj month: and the leaves of the Tree were for the healing of the nations:” or, as it has been rendered in the pleasant rhyme of that forgotten bard who long since sang “Jerusalem, my happy home:” —

Thy gardens and thy gallant walks
Continually are green;
There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers
As nowhere else are seen.

Quite through the streets, with silver sound.

The flood of life doth flow;
Upon whose banks on every side

The trees of life do grow.

These trees each month do yield their fruit,

For evermore they spring;
And all the nations of the world

To thee their honours bring.”

So profuse is the immortality, and so universally accessible are the blessings of this happy region, that either prophet speaks in these passages as if the trees of life were many: just as elsewhere, with allusion to His manifold operations and offices, the one great Comforter is called “the Seven Spirits of God.” Elsewhere, however, where precision and personality are required, the primitive unity reappears; and in the promise to the faithful of Ephesus we read, “To him that overcometh will I grant to eat of the Tree of Life, which is in the midst of the Paradise of God,” — repeated and extended in the last page of the canon, “Blessed are they that do His commandments, that they may have right to the Tree of Life, and may enter in through the gates into the city.”

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