The Ground of Divine Compassion

“Should not I spare Nineveh, wherein are more than six score thousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand and their left hand?”” — Jonag iv. 11.

HE beings here spoken of are the infants

of Nineveh — the lives which had not reached the age of conscious discernment. It is a wonderful passage. Some old Calvinistic divines used to say that the salvation of a child depended on the faith of the parent. If they had only looked into the Book of Jonah, they would have seen that God had there set forth a refutation of their theory. Here the parents are all bad — to a man, to a woman. They are idolaters in doctrine, they are wicked in life; they have no circumcision, no baptism, no Holy Communion. And yet these little children of godless parents are so dear to the heart of the All-Father that He cannot destroy the city which they inhabit. “Cannot” is the

appropriate word. There is a magnificent limit to the omnipotence of God — the limit imposed by His love. His power cannot pass the boundaries of His heart. All the voices of the universe called for the death of Nineveh — all but one. Law called for it; prudence called for it; morality called for it; political economy called for it; the survival of the fittest called for it. But there was one thing which cried against it — God’s compassion for the infants. It was a solitary voice — a voice crying in the wilderness. It was unsupported by the voice of policy, the voice of worldly prudence, the voice of public opinion. It gave no cause for its cry. It did not say, ‘ These infants may be good some day, great some day, believers some day.” It was the wilderness that made the cry; it was sheer pity for the helpless that opened the arms of God.. My soul, hast thou considered this, that in the heart of thy Father there is such a thing as compassion for its own sake! There is nothing I am so apt to forget. I am always seeking a reason for God’s pity beyond my pain. I have cried, with the men of old, “For Thy servant David’s sake.” Why look so far, O my soul! Why not take thy place with the infants of Nineveh, with the infants in the arms of Jesus! Wilt thou not learn that alike in God and man compassion is its own argument! How shalt thou plead for these infants of Nineveh? Shalt thou say, ‘Remember Thy covenant with David”? But they are not of the seed of David. Shalt thou say, “For the sake of their father Abraham”? But they are not of the stock of Abraham. Shalt thou say, “In remembrance of their pious ancestry”? But their ancestry is impious, and their fathers deserve to die. Look not so far in thy pleading, O my soul! The heart of thy God moves not on borrowed wings. The pinions of its pity are not attached from without; they grow from within. They are independent of David or Abraham or Moses; they are moved only by the creature’s pain. Point not beyond the swaddling bands! Point not beyond the manger! Point not beyond the helpless cry! All the guilt of Nineveh cannot reach the height of these arguments. The infants of Nineveh are outside the pale. Israel knows them not; the Church owns them not; ordinances sanctify them not; respectability needs them not. But in the heart of the Father their cry outweighs all. They prevail by their poverty; they win by their wailing; they rule by their rags; they dominate by their destitution; they triumph by their troubles; they conquer the heart of God by a ery from the heart of man. When thou prayest to thy Father thou needest only thy need.