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These mighty saints of old may have had fewer books to read than we have in our day, but they had one glorious book, the volume of nature, whose ever-open pages, written within and without by the finger of God, were spread out before their wondering eyes. And they read carefully and devoutly the great truths about God these pages were always teaching them. God was passing by them in the grand panorama of His works which their eyes beheld. They dwelt chiefly in tents. They lived much in the open air, under the blue sky of those beautiful Eastern lands. They lived a simple, primitive life, with few wants and few cares. They had far more time than we have for holy thought and heavenly meditation on things spiritual and eternal. Many a sacred tradition may have floated down the quiet stream of time — of the revelation of God made to man, of His will and purpose concerning the race that had so sadly gone astray from Him. They knew that God had not finally abandoned the world and consigned it to utter destruction. They followed their flocks and herds all day in the wild, trackless desert, or in the fertile plain. They lived much of the time alone — and men who are much alone with God become terribly in earnest. They are away from man and all his little ways, and hold communion with God through His works. Men like Moses and Elijah and John the Baptist may be separated from their fellow men; but they are near to, and enjoy wondrous communings with the infinite and eternal God. God is passing by them in a thousand ways. They watch with eager eye every variation in the clouds and in the stars. They could see the glorious play of the forked lightning as it gleamed, in a thousand fantastic forms, on the bosom of the storm-cloud, resting on the distant mountain tops. In the storm God was passing by — that same God whose goings forth have been of old, from everlasting. They knew, it may be, little of the laws of electricity or of sound; but they could hear in the thunder, as it rolled from rock to rock, or shook the earth from pole to pole, the very voice of God (Psalm 29:3-8). These mighty saints may have had no formulated system of theology, where God was mapped out with all His perfections, with all the nicety and precision of a mathematical figure; but to them He was the omnipresent God. They saw some rays of His glorious presence reflected from every cloud. They heard His voice in every passing breeze. God was passing by then. God — the same God — is passing by us now. Whatever changes have come or yet may come to His universe, He Himself is unchangeable. In the glorious panorama of the heavens God is passing by us. In the noiseless tread of the seasons God is passing by. Spring and summer, seed time and harvest, autumn and winter, as they quietly come and quietly go, all tell the same story, "God is passing by." In the regular succession of day and night, in every rising and setting sun, in every waxing and waning moon, God is near us and passing by us. In every national blessing and every national chastisement God is passing by. When the streams of earthly comforts flow full and strong around our life, and equally when these streams run low or dry, God is passing by us. When war, with all its accompanying desolations, its misery and agony and woe, is sweeping over a country, God is passing by. And no less surely is He passing by for us in our days of peace and our nights of quiet. God is ever near us, though we see Him not. In every beat of our pulse, in every throb of our heart, in every movement of our brain, God is there. He is about our bed and around our path. Above us, behind and before, we are flooded with the omnipresence of Deity as with the noonday sunshine. But because we see Him not with the bodily eye we forget that He is there. He passeth on also, but we perceive Him not.

(James Carmichael, D. D.)

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KJV: Lo, he goeth by me, and I see him not: he passeth on also, but I perceive him not.

WEB: Behold, he goes by me, and I don't see him. He passes on also, but I don't perceive him.