The Darkness and the Pestilence

The pestilence that walketh in darkness.”- — PsaLm xci. 6.

THERE are some things which awake in the night. They sleep when the sun is going his rounds. When the sun goes down they open their eyes and their day begins. The sunset is their dawn, and they begin their labours when all other things go to rest. The other night, when darkness reigned, a bat flew in at my bedroom window, and he glided out again with a speed which puts the swiftest aircraft to shame. He never visits me in the noon. He makes his appearance in the dusky twilight, and he threads the pathways of the gloom. The same night, and every night, owls hoot and screech at the bottom of my garden. I have never heard them when the sun is shining. The hoot is never mingled with the sweet, tremulous call of the robin, or the rich contralto notes of the thrush. No, owls and bats come when light thickens, and the darkness is their day.

There are other things which hide in the light and steal out in the night. The nightshade unseals her sickly breath in the darkness. Other poisonous things do their subtle commerce on the wings of the night. They have no fellowship with the sunshine; they cannot use it, and they stay their movements until it is withdrawn.

‘Well, there is something analogous to all this in human life. The darkness falls, and unfamiliar things come out. The joyful day is over. The feast is ended. Chilly airs breathe round about us. Perhaps we have had bright hours of triumph, and now failure looks into our window. Or perhaps it is that radiant strength is changing into weakness. Or perhaps that dull, heavy thing called pain has made its appearance in our streets. Or perhaps one sunny presence after another has fallen, until now we walk in an “encircling gloom,” and the hours are’ very lonely, and very cold. The night is dark, and we seem far from home, and the darkness is haunted by troublesome things which break and startle our rest.

Yes, there are troublesome things which come with our night, things which never showed themselves in the sunshine. It is quite easy to name some of these creatures and creations of the darkness. For example, here are two things whose presence breathes through the soul like a pestilence when night has fallen upon us. John Bunyan has called them Timorous and Mistrust. We never knew them in the daytime. No one ever saw or felt them around our doors. We moved in happy confidence, as though friendly eyes were watching us, and the angel of the Lord camped round about us. But now our health is broken. Or the strength has gone out of our business. Or death has been to our door. And we have become timorous and mistrustful, as though those friendly, watchful eyes had gone to sleep, and as though the sentinel angel had struck his tent and gone away to pitch his camp at somebody else’s door. And so the soul is filled with fear, and the fear se Ss aS SD

172. The Darkness and the Pestilence

is just the pestilence that walketh in darkness.

But it may be that in our darkness we have not become possessed by any mood so perilous as mistrust. It may be that only a chilling despondency has crept over the soul. But what is despondency? It is a lowering of the spiritual temperature. It is a sort of chill which affects all the spiritual organs with torpor. Or if the chill does not act in the way of desensitising our spirits, it may do as chills often do, it may produce a feverishness which is often the parent of a very dangerous progeny. The chill of despondency may excite the destructive heat of fretfulness, or its kindred ailments of murmuring or complaint. In the days of warm sunshine these moods never afflicted us. Praise and thanksgiving sang like sweet songsters in the garden of the soul. But now the night air has driven away the singing bird, and more doleful things, things of the darkness, have taken its place.

There are other things which awake in the night. Pessimism is a child of the darkness. And so is disloyalty. And so is desertion. And there are many others which my readers can name for themselves, for they will well remember how, when the darkness fell across their lives, these things came stealthily to their doors. All these are just as much the things of the night as the bat which flew around my chamber, or the owl which hooted in the gloom at the bottom of the garden.

Well, what shall we do when the sun goes down, and the night comes over us? I think one of the first things to do is this — remember that the darkness in itself is not dangerous. There is nothing necessarily perilous in the night air. I very well remember how we used to be told not to go out in the night air, as though it carried something exceedingly deadly in its wings. But now we are being told that the night air may be even purer than the air that breathes by day. The traffic is stilled, and the clouds of dust have fallen to rest. Factories have ceased their labour, and their chimneys no longer belch forth their dense and sulphurous abomination. And thus the darkness may in some respects be safer than the light. It is the chill which may come with the darkness which is the deadly ally of the pestilence.

Where, then, is our safety to be found? Well, let it be clearly noted that this wonderful ninety-first psalm is full of God. Even though the darkness has fallen, all the great movements are God’s or are inspired by God. The darkness is filled with all sorts of securities which are the provision of His love. See how some of the great words run which tell about the refuges and the hostels of the night : — ‘‘ The secret place of the Most High”; “the shadow of the Almighty”; ‘* His feathers’’; ‘‘under His wings”; “‘ thy shield ’’; ‘“‘ thy buckler.”” What words are these which tell how the seemingly empty night is filled with the presence of God! It is not only that there are refuges in which weary pilgrims, who have been overtaken by the darkness, can find warmth and light and hospitality. It is not only a lit-up cottage by the way, and beyond it the cold, dark road again. The deliverance is a moving one, and the divine Host keeps step and pace with our need. ‘I will be with him in trouble!” That is the great revealing word, for that is the Presence which turns every inch of road into a hostel, and provides a warm fireside wherever the bitter winds loose themselves in fiercest siege.

And therefore the contest is not the unequal one between the soul and the perils of the night. The contest is between the soul, hiding and trusting under God’s wings, and all the plagues and pestilences which may seek to breathe their foul breath upon it! ‘* Neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling!’ We are secluded with the Almighty, and in the thickest night our security is complete.

If, then, the ‘‘ curfew tolls the knell of parting day,” if the fair day-landscape is glimmering and fading on the sight, let the startled soul turn its face toward home! And home is not far away, for home is God, and God is as near as our glance, and vastly nearer than our cry. In trust and quietness let the darkened soul breathe these familiar words : —

“Sun of my soul, thou Saviour dear, It is not night if Thou be near!”

Or these words : —

“Abide with me! fast falls the eventide; The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide!”

176 The Darkness and the Pestilence

And lo! it shall be found that the desolate hour becomes the hour of the Lord’s visitation, and ‘‘ the night shall shine as the day.”