Childhood at the Last
Luke xv. 24 v.
“And they began to be merry.”
Began! “Was the life of joy only beginning now? The prodigal had expected to find merriment in his youth; he had left his father’s house with a view to find it. And had it only come at the end of the day, when youth was gone and the shadows were lengthening? Yes,
U-2 SEAIiCHINGS IN THE SILENCE.
that is the order of the life of God. We speak of the Wheel of Life; that of the soul is not a wheel, but a triangle. It is heavy at the base and light afc the summit. It grows lighter as we climb. The heavy heart is at the beginning — on the ground-floor. As we ascend, the air grows rarer, and, at the top, the soul is buoyant. I used to wonder what was the meaning of these words, “Except ye become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom.” It seemed a strange thing that the beginning should be the most glorious time. But now the mystery is clear. If the child is king, it is because the child is latest. The years of time go from youth to manhood; but the years of eternity go from manhood to youth. They are born in conscious struggle, and they culminate in unconscious song. They bud in faith, and they blossom in feeling. Their dawn is the repression of doubt, but their meridian is irrepressible morning. They begin with the knowledge of good and evil; they reach their maturity in the joy of the Lord.
Son of Man, it is after Thy judgment the words are spoken, “Enter ye into the joy of your Lord.” Thy judgment must come first. I must begin by opening the books and reading the register. It is hard reading; it is reading for a man, not for a child. But I know that the child is coming afterwards, and the book for the child. I know that the days of unconscious play shall be, not my first, but my latest days. I know that Thy morning comes after Thy evening; make haste with Thy morning, oh Lord. I am travelling, not to age, but to youth — not from joy to peace, but from peace to joy. I have begun in the mists of manhood; I have trusted where I cannot trace. One day I shall be a child, and see; and then the trees of the forest shall clap their hands. Come, with the light heart of youth. Come, with the wings of the morning. Come, with the river of Thy pleasures. Make me free; make me buoyant; make me gushing; make me a child of Nature; make me a breath of spring. Give me the rose in late autumn, and the song of the swallow in November. I have entered by the strait gate; I have journeyed by the narrow way; when I reach the Father’s house I shall begin to be merry.