The fear of God.
"O fear the Lord, ye his saints: for there is no want to them that fear him." The fear of God described the whole of practical religion. There are various kinds and degrees of fear caused by our relation to God, combined in various proportions with other sentiments, tie is the great and powerful, and we are the weak; and we are naturally ignorant of his nature; and till we know whether he is a malignant or a benevolent being, we naturally dread him. The fear which dreads him is the first feeling which springs up. When we have passed out of and beyond the feeling of dread, we may still be overpowered by awe. We feel that God is greater than our highest, most perfect knowledge of his nature; his vastness overcomes and prostrates us. Jacob; Job; David. But the strangest cause of fear is the sense of transgression and the fear of punishment. We dread the judgment of God upon lives and actions. He must know the realities that lie beneath all appearance—the good and the evil. We may well fear when we think of his knowledge of us. The revelations of God's impersonal nature alarm us. They are all love and no feeling. The hurricane and the tempest are pitiless. The revelations of his personal nature in man and in Christ are full of compassion. God in Christ is the -Physician; but we cannot help fearing what he may have to do upon us for our healing, before we can be made whole. But we ought to believe and know that, like a good physician, he never inflicts any but necessary pain, and how much the infliction costs him in his sympathy with us. Our theology often teaches that there are reasons for servile fear; that our relation to God is that of a courtier to an Eastern despot; or that of a Jew debtor to a Jew creditor, who has no generosity, but exacts the uttermost farthing; or that of a criminal to a Judge who tries to compound with the law by getting an innocent person to suffer for his crimes instead of himself; or who thinks God, in his providential discipline, a cruel Being, who calls upon him to suffer the loss of his children, as he called upon Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, in order to test his faith. But faith casts out the terrors of fear, not inspires them, and does not need such cruel experiments for our discipline. Then there is the fear inspired by faith and love, but which has no torment. A man who has a great undertaking before him, calling for the skill and energy of his highest functions, naturally trembles lest he should fail; like a painter, who stands at his task, but his heart trembling with the great pulses of his conception. He is fearful in proportion as he sees the perfection of the thing he is trying to embody. Turner watching the storm—that he might know how to paint it. So there is a lofty and noble fear of aspiration lest we should not fulfil the Divine purpose of love in our lives. The fear felt towards a good mother, who would sacrifice her life for her child. "How awful goodness is!"—S.