The Four-Fold Cluster
John x. 3, 4.
f HE figure is borrowed from a fold in some mountain valley, where the flock has rested through the hours of darkness, protected from robbers by the deputy-shepherd ( the porter ), and from the wolves by the barriers of the enclosure.
At last the morning arrives, and with it the shepherd. He comes to the portal. The porter knows his step, and voice, and knock; and opens to him without a moment’s hesitation.
The very sheep, more docile and sagacious than those of our northern climes, gave evident signs that they, too, know that their own true shep- “1 pe calletb anb Xeabetb.” 95
herd has come, for “they hear his voice.”
The shepherd then proceeds to call them out by name. For each has some special name, often suggested by a deformity or a peculiarity in its appearance. And as he mentions it, the bearer, proud to be noticed, comes from among the eager pressing crowd, and passes out from the fold to where the shepherd awaits it, beyond its containing walls. “He calleth his own sheep by name, and leadeth them out.”
Thus at last the whole flock emerge from the fold and stand there, in the wild mountain-pass; while the giant forms of the hills, hushed with unbroken silence, covered by bracken and gorse, and haunted by wild game, rise around.
When the shepherd thus put forth his own sheep, “he goeth before them, and the sheep follow him; for they know his voice, And a stranger will they not follow, but will flee from him; for they know not the voice of strangers.” It is said that cases of dispute about the ownership of sheep are still settled in the East by putting the flock in the midst of a large field, and by letting the rival claimants call to them from opposite sides, it being a well-known fact that a sheep will always run to that side of the field on which the true shepherd stands.
In all this there is an exquisite parable of the dealings of the Saviour with us.
Who is there that does not know something of the shelter and comfort of the Fold? That home, with all its calm and happy associations; that situation, held so long that its duties have become a sort of second nature; that competence, hardly earned, and large enough to promise years of ease — these are instances of sheltering folds “trig ©von Sbeep.” in which we rest. But we may not rest in them forever. The grass about a fold is eaten down, and worn with incessant treading; and it is therefore very different to that which, bathed in dew, carpets the mountainsides. And so the true Shepherd comes at length, to bring us out of the fold to where the fresh, bright, mountain breezes breathe freely, and life is luxury in the exhilarating air. It is a matter of daily experience. Changes are permitted to pass and repass over our lives, which break up our homes, scatter our nests, shatter our schemes, and drive us forth to the untried and novel experiences which we dread. But in all these changes there is always the personal presence and superintendence of the Good Shepherd, who neither slumbers nor sleeps.
“He calleth His own sheep by name.” It is a searching inquiry for us each — Am I one of His own sheep? For if that is settled in the positive, it involves an untold wealth and weight of blessing. Given to Him, in the eternal ages, by the Father; rescued from the wolf at the cost of the Shepherd’s life; endowed with eternal life, so that they can never perish; safe within the hollow of the guarding hand of Jesus, from which neither man, nor devil, can pluck them forth; known intimately and familiarly by Him who loves unutterably; led in to rest, as well as out to work — no mortal tongue can tell or human mind imagine all that Jesus is or does for those whom He designates as His own sheep. But this is clear and unmistakable, that the Good Shepherd has an intimate and individual knowledge of us each. He knows us by our name.
In the wilderness wanderings, the Almighty God uttered words to Moses which have ever seemed to me to involve a weight of meaning far greater than appears upon their surface. “And the Lord said to Moses, I will do this thing also that thou hast spoken: for thou hast found grace in My sight, and I know thee by name” There is a depth of significance in those words which cannot be expressed, and can only be realized by the glad soul to whom they are spoken. What intimacy! what familiarity! what dignity and glory! None but a friend could call his friend by name! And what must it not be, to be the friend of the Deity itself! Yet all this is sure for any one of us, whom Jesus knows and calls by name.
The prophet compares the starry hosts to a flock of sheep, scattered through the fields of space. “Lift up vour eyes on high, and behold who hath created these, that bringeth out their host by number: He calleth
them all by names, by the greatness of His might, for that He is strong of ioo XLbc tfoufolfc (Elustej.
power; not one faileth.” But surely one, for whom Christ died, is worth more to Him than all the hosts of heaven! And if the stars are so safe, because He is responsible to maintain and guide them, shall not we too be equally safe, whom He calleth by name? Would He have entered into such intimate relationship with us, if that were not to issue in an eternal union?
There is one sure sign of the true sheep: “they know His voice.” They
can distinguish its sweet tones among all other sounds; and to hear is to obey, “He leadeth them out” In heaven He is said to feed the redeemed as a flock, and to lead them to living fountains of water; i. e., from one fountain to another, deeper and deeper into the heart of Heaven. But this gracious ministry is equally His work on earth. He is always leading us out — out from the old into the new; out from the familiar to the untried; out from “tpe ©oetb JBefore Ttbem,” ioi
the attained to the unattained; out from experiences and confessions, which have become familiar, to the glorious possibilities of Christian living. These leadings come in many delicate and tender ways — by circumstances, by friendships, by books, by passages of Scripture; but when they come, it will well repay us to obey and follow. There is no experience in the Blessed Life into which Jesus will not lead us, if only we are faithful to the slightest intimation of His will.
“He putteth forth His own sheep. ’* Ah, this is bitter work for Him and us — bitter for us to go; but equally bitter for Him to cause us pain. Yet it must be done. It would not be conducive to our true welfare to stay always in one happy and comfortable lot. He therefore puts us forth. The nest is broken up, that the young fledglings may be compelled to try their wings and learn to fly. The fold io2 Cbe jfourfolb Cluster*
is deserted, that the sheep may wander over the bracing mountain slope. The labourers must be thrust out into the harvest; else the golden grain would spoil. Take heart! — it could not be better to stay, when He determines it otherwise. And if the loving hand of our Lord puts us forth, it must be well. On, in His name, to green pastures, and still waters, and mountain heights!
“He goeth before them. Whatever awaits us is encountered first by Him — each difficulty and complication; each wild beast or wilder robber; each yawning chasm or precipitous path. Faith’s eye can always discern His majestic presence in front; and when that cannot be seen, it is dangerous to move forward. Bind this comfort to your heart: that the Saviour has tried for Himself all the experiences through which He asks you to pass; and He would not ask you to pass “tpe ©oefb Befoje Gbcm” 103
through them unless He was sure that they were not too difficult for your feet, or too trying for your strength. The Breaker always goes up before us. The Woodsman hews a path for us through the trackless forest. The broad-shouldered Brother pushes a way for us through the crowd. And we have only to follow.
This is the Blessed Life — not anxious to see far in front; not careful about the next step; not eager to choose the path; not weighted with the heavy responsibilities of the future: but
quietly following behind the Shepherd, one step at a time.