If at times the voice of Jesus was raised in stirring appeal or majestic command-and we may read sweet lessons from its rousing tones-so also was His silence vocal with unheard music, and the "rests " in the full flood of harmony with which His voice was pregnant are also most beautiful. They read us lessons of the love of God, they witness silently to the majesty of the blessed Christ, they speak of depths unfathomed by the poor plummet of earthly affection and understanding and they rise to the eternal home of the divine Father, and gives us assurance of our entrance there. With this prospectus before us let us seek to follow them out; but oh, brethren, it is no use for you to read, or for me to write, unless through grace His Spirit teach us. "Though I speak with the tongue of men and of angels," says the apostle, "if I have not love, I am as sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal." Who shall describe Christ ? Who can speak of Him aright? and if one of the holiest of men on earth was not worthy to stoop and loose the latchet of His shoe, what are we ?

There are a number of instances in which Jesus kept silence, of which the Gospels speak or at which they hint, and there are circumstances connected with them which are well worthy of meditation. – Of course, they are familiar to most of us, but perhaps it has not yet been the privilege of some to consider them as a whole, and to such the subject should be of interest. There are two aspects of them which we will consider; the one tells us a connected story of what His love accomplishes and when it works; and the other, of Himself personally.

It was near the end of His earthly journey. His disciples had left Him, and His enemies were rejoicing in His downfall. The rulers were taking counsel together, and one of them who for a long time had been desirous to see, because he hoped to have his idle curiosity sated by some work of wonder wrought at Christ's command, now questions Him in many words. He receives no answer. Those lips unsealed so often at the cry of necessity and the voice of anguish to pour out a bounteous blessing are fast locked against the words for empty curiosity, even though a king with his armed band stand to command their undoing,' 'He answered him nothing." How vexatious for proud Herod! Here was a treasure to which no king could command the key, and which self-proud words could not unlock. And this should have its voice for us and for men of all time. It is a divine principle. It is only the heart in earnest whose cry is ever heard. And God is not a respecter of persons. These are principles which meet us upon the threshold of all dealings with God. We may apply them when in prayer we seek His face, when we come to Him for salvation, whenever it be. Be in earnest and humble, or no answer will come.

But if God hear not idle curiosity, do not imagine that you are going to be heard because of any mere earnestness. You cannot storm heaven in that way. You must come in your true relationship.

There are two silences of Jesus which bear witness to this, one of them carrying with it a further lesson which is indeed very blessed.

There was a poor woman who came to Him in great distress about her daughter whom she had left at her home on the sea-coast grievously vexed with a devil. There was no mistake about her being in earnest. Oh, that we all were ever as earnest as she! She was a foreigner, and she cried to Him, "Have mercy on me, O Lord, Thou; Son of David." "But He answered her not a word." This evidently went on for quite a time, until at last the disciples grew wearied, and besought Him, saying," Send her away, for she crieth after us." One can well imagine what a trial it was to our dear Lord thus to put her off, but when it was necessary to teach a lesson He never spared Himself. How quickly are the channels of mercy thrown open when she drops the "Son of David," and takes her true position towards Him. The silence is broken then, and from the Lord's lips break those blessed words of joyous delight:"O woman, great is thy faith; be it unto thee even as thou wilt."

If we have learned now from His silence, and that it had to be broken, that nothing in ourselves but only our outcast condition could give us place at His table, another question arises,'' Will He care for me and shelter me on my journey through this world, spite of all my erring ways ? and a third most beautiful silence of Jesus gives its divine and comforting answer, " He will."

It is night in Judea; a night of sorrow and distress; a night of blasted hopes and scattered friends, and we see our blessed Saviour surrounded by His enemies in the palace of the high-priest. They are asking Him many questions; and also one of His followers, who had sneaked into the palace, and is warming himself by a fire, is saying something. Let us listen a moment. He is cursing and swearing and saying, " I know not the man;" "I know not the man." Is this Peter, the valiant Peter? And who is it he does not know ? "The Christ, the Son of the living God." "I know not the man." "The high-driest then asked Jesus of His disciples and of His doctrine," and from John's Gospel we see that Jesus omits all mention of His disciples. He might have answered " There is one at the fire there, cursing and swearing that he does not know Me." Oh, how terribly sad must have been those curses to the ears of our dear Lord. How much alone He must have felt at such an hour ! Ah! never was sorrow so bitter as His, and yet it did not absorb Him. He thinks of Peter. He does not speak to him, for that would betray him. Peter deserved it a hundredfold, but Jesus loved, and that love, forgetful of its injury, will acquiesce in Peter's wish not to be known as Christ's. In perfect silence Jesus turned, and just looked. We are not told what there was in that silent look, but just as the railing of the thief on the cross was suddenly checked, and turned to entreaty, so curses change to tears. Peter went out weeping bitterly.

And will it be bold and illogical in us to argue that, if thus Christ cared for Peter in his disobedience, forgetting His own deep sorrow and thoughtfully shielding his wayward one, He will likewise shield and care for us ? I think not.

His silence, then, assures us of care through this scene, and if we ask, "What about the hereafter?" we hear a voice saying, " In My Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you." There was no need to speak on such a subject. Fancy one like Christ having to tell His own He had a home for them. Silence was guarantee from Him that there was. Reader, I will not dwell on the last blessed silence of Christ. "Thinkest thou I could not pray to the Father and He would presently give Me more than twelve legions of angels " ? We know what this abstinence meant both to Him and to us. But let us return often to meditate on such themes. They are worthy of it. F. C. G.