Ecclesiastes 1:13-14 And I gave my heart to seek and search out by wisdom concerning all things that are done under heaven… Now, there has never been any book which can be compared to this marvellous book of Ecclesiastes. It is the laboratory in which the penitent gathers bitter herbs, the garden in which the wise man gathers sweet flowers. It is the laboratory to which the greatest sage of old times deliberately puts his hand and his head to try experiments, in order to get a little acquaintance with the mysteries of human life. The scale upon which he experimented is as vast as the power of man; as we may see when we consider the discoveries of Sir Isaac Newton, the speculations of Priestley, the anatomists among the bones, and the geologists among the stones, as also that most sublime of men, full of animal life, sensual desire, and full of wisdom, who obtained a knowledge of all times. What was the object of his experiments? They were deliberately entered upon to try what life could do for his soul, and he tried it in the most philosophical way. How splendid to read his experiment. "I builded me a house." How many men thus see if they can satisfy the desires of their souls. I know of one man who built one of the greatest houses of modern times, and when he had finished it he said, "If I could find as much pleasure in pulling it down as I have done in rearing, I would begin to pull it down." The charm was in the experiment, and not in the thing which was got. So Solomon tried houses; and we know the style in which he built. The very cedars of Lebanon trembled, for there was to be an axe among them; the far-off stones were to be brought, for there was a king building. He tried gardening also — the loveliest of all human pleasures, the sweetest and most innocent, the most lasting, and one from which men get more pure pleasure than anything else. Then he tried society. "I gathered me also silver and gold, and the peculiar treasure of kings and of the provinces." And then he came to the result of all his experiments: "It is all vanity and vexation of spirit." Now, it is a subject worth pondering upon, what is meant by this endless search; whether there be a remedy for this perpetual discontent, and where it is to be found. We never do meet with a contented people. The more cultivated they are, the more real will be the discontent. In which country of Europe do you suppose are there the most suicides — the stupidest or the most cultivated? You will say in the former, of course; but you are entirely wrong. The most elevated districts are more disturbed than others. Solomon also tried whether books and study would give him what he sought; and he came down with a great library and among his parchments, but eventually comes to the conclusion that "much study is a weariness to the flesh." Now, it will be found that there are more suicides in Prussia than in Spain; for these reasons, that in one country, they think, and in the other they drink; in one country they lead, and in the other they are driven. Wherever there is but a little looking into its problems, according to the ability they have for making experiments, there is the same result. I envy the souls that never are weary. Is there anything much more touching than this great desire which is upon me, this impatience of the dull routine of things, this great clement of weariness, of always seeing the same things over and over again I It is so wonderful! Solomon had seen all the wonderful things that were-to be seen, and come to the conclusion that there is nothing new under the sun. Ask a man who is perpetually reading and studying, and he will tell you he gets fearfully weary: he finds the same stereotyped state of things. We toil and fever after wealth, and leave it to somebody, we know not what sort of person he may be — whether a fool or not. We put by a little, and know not what manner of person will have it. We rejoice in building up something beautiful and commanding, and know not what kind of creature will inhabit it. We erect a house, perhaps, to be occupied by beggars; we leave an orchard to be used by fools, gather books to be scattered over the world: or, perhaps, we collect a magnificent gallery of pictures, and leave them to a progeny who cannot understand them. Looking at his own work, and of the labour which his hand had wrought, Solomon said, as he walked through his palaces, "This is a weariness to the flesh." He was conscious of understanding the infinite forms of human weariness; such was the result of his analysis of the experiments he made in Jerusalem, and he ends by showing that nothing would satisfy him. In the effort to get quit of this fearful discontent, men are always trying to get something new, to get something that will satisfy them. One man says he will retire, and fancies for himself some little island in the sweet Mediterranean Sea, where the scene is ever fair, the sky ever blue — where the women are beautiful and never commonplace, and the men classical in contour, and the children sweet little cherubs, never growing vulgar. He dreams of some sweet paradise, and he goes to find it. But he finds that black care, all haunting care, in the saddle behind the horseman. The man carries himself wheresoever he goes. How touching to read of the humble experiment of poor Charles Lamb, longing for the day when he should have nothing to do, no longer confined to the hateful India House, sitting and working sadly and wearyingly at those ledgers, "The thing that has been will be," when I have stood at the banks and other places and seen the marble-like figures who have toiled there: such fearful repetition, the manner in which they spend their lives, in adding up the day-books, counting up the figures, with a view to the dividends! What would poor Lamb have given to get out of this condition? What a tragedy that was when he went down to Brighton to enjoy himself, and lay down the burden of his daily routine for a little while; when the coach got half-way and met the one coming in the opposite direction, he got out of the one he was in and stepped into the other! That was vanity and vexation of spirit. What was the secret of Byron, of the strange opinions of that spoiled child of fashion? Now, all this weariness comes very much out of the impatience of the condition by which we are surrounded. Then the majority of people are so fond of the proprieties of life, asking the ordinary questions and receiving the eternal answers. Where have you been? Where are you going? What has happened? So that everything even in friendship gets tiresome. (G. Dawson.) Parallel Verses KJV: And I gave my heart to seek and search out by wisdom concerning all things that are done under heaven: this sore travail hath God given to the sons of man to be exercised therewith. |
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