The Summer of the Soul

“Thou shalt visit thy habitation, and shalt not sin.”

Job V. 24.

THE climax of moral goodness is goodness in the domestic circle. When the beauty of a man’s character reaches to his own dwelling, it must be beautiful indeed; the acme of virtue is to visit one’s habitation and not sin. The common view is the opposite. We think of the home circle as the he ginning of goodness. We think of the intercourse between brother and sister as an incipient stage, a preparatory stage. We look upon the domestic altar as the place of trivial sacrifice, the school for beginners in the Christian race! But here is a startling revelation! Here is a voice from the ancient past which speaks a paradox! It tells us that the home is not the beginning, but the climax, of perfectness. It tells us that moral loveliness is never so lovely in a man as when it shines in his dwelling-place. It tells us that the flower of human life only reaches its full bloom when its fragrance fills the garden where it was first planted.

Teach me, O Lord, the way of Thy statutes — the order of Thy statutes! I am in a great mistake about that order; I put Thy richest treasures on the lowest step. I have been accustomed to say, ‘’ Be faithful in little things, and you will learn to be faithful in much.” But Thy order inverts the sequence; it says, ‘’ Be faithful in great things, and you will learn to be faithful in small.” I have been greatly mistaken about that child which was put into the midst of Thy disciples; I have misread the motive for the deed. I have thought it was meant to teach me a lesson of humility. I suffered the child to come because I thought I was humbling my pride. It never occurred to me till now that I was getting a model for my highest imitation. It never dawned on me till now that the duties of home were set before me because the duties of home were the highest. But I begin to see it all! I begin to see that there is no sinlessness so hard to win as sinlessness ‘’ in the habitation.” Often have I lost in the household that temper which I controlled amid the crowd; often have I yielded in the home to that temptation which I resisted in the world. It is easy to lay aside my weight before the cloud of witnesses; but when the witnesses are gone, the weight presses. Therefore I know why Thou hast made the child my model — the child amid the duties of home. Not Peter in the storm, not Matthew at the receipt of custom, not Jairus in the hour of grief, hast Thou made my model. The storm incites to heroism; the receipt of custom keeps me sober; the hour of grief withers earthly vanity. But the home is the unheroic hour, the unguarded hour, the hour when I am most apt to be vain. If Thy Spirit can reign there, it can reign everywhere; I shall walk stainless through the universe when I can visit my habitation and not sin.