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Open thy doors, O Lebanon, that the fire may devour thy cedars. Howl, fir tree; for the cedar is fallen; because the mighty are spoiled: howl, O ye oaks of Bashan; for the forest of the vintage is come down. This chapter, it has been said, divides itself into three sections.

1. The threat of judgment (vers. 1-3).

2. The description of the good Shepherd (vers. 4-14).

3. The sketch of the foolish shepherd (vers. 15-17).

The expression, "Open thy doors [gates], O Lebanon," is, of course, quite dramatic in style. "The prophet, instead of announcing to Lebanon its future destruction, commands it as the servant of God to open its gates; the meaning therefore is, 'Thou Lebanon wilt be stormed and devastated by the foe'" (Hengstenberg). Lebanon, here, may be regarded as a symbol of the kingdom of Judah, its cedars as denoting the chief men of the kingdom. We shall take the words to illustrate three subjects in relation to mankind - a variety of distinction, a common calamity, and a natural alarm.

I. A VARIETY OF DISTINCTION. The "cedar" here, the "fir tree," or cypress, and the "oaks," are employed to set forth some of the distinctions that prevailed amongst the Hebrew people. How, whilst all men have a common origin, a common nature, and common moral obligations and responsibilities, yet in every generation there prevails a large variety of striking distinctions. There are not only the cedars and fir trees, but even briars and thistles. There is almost as great a distinction between the highest type of man and the lowest as there is between the lowest and the highest type of brute. In the great forest of every generation there are a few tall cedars and oaks rising in majesty above all the other trees, down to mere brushwood and even fungi. There are intellectual giants and intellectual dwarfs, moral monarchs and spiritual serfs. This variety of distinction in the human family serves at least two important purposes.

1. To check pride in the highest and despondency in the lowest. The cedar has no cause for boasting over the fir tree or over the humblest plant: it owes its existence to the same God, and is sustained by the same common elements. And what have the greatest men - the Shakespeares, the Schillers, the Miltons, the Goethes - to be proud of? What have they that they have not received? And why should the weakest man despond? He is what God made him, and his responsibilities are limited by his capacities.

2. To strengthen the ties of human brotherhood. Were all men of equal capacity, it is manifest that there would be no scope for that mutual ministry of interdependence which tends to unite society together. There are the givers and the receivers; the delight of the former is in his gifts, the hope of the latter is in the helps he receives. The strong rejoices in bearing the infirmities of the weak, and the weak rejoices in gratitude and hope on account of the succour received. Between the least and the greatest, therefore, in human society there is ample scope afforded for the fall play of the faculties, the sympathies, and the services of all.

II. A COMMON CALAMITY. "Howl, fir tree; for the cedar is fallen," An expression which implies that the same fate awaits the fir tree. There is one event that awaits men of every type and class and grade, the tallest cedar and the most stunted shrub, and that is, death. "All flesh is grass;" "Wine men die, likewise the fool and the brutish person perish, and leave their wealth to others."

1. This common calamity levels all distinctions. The cedar and the fir tree - if not cut down by the woodman, scathed by the lightning, or uprooted by the tempest - must sooner or later rot, and their dust mingle with the earth; so with men of all distinctions, the prince and the pauper, the cedar and the bramble in the human forest, must bow to the stroke. "Though his excellency mount up to the heavens, and his head reach unto the clouds, yet he shall perish forever."

2. This common calamity should dematerialize all souls. Since we are only here on this earth for a few short years at most, why should we live to the flesh, and thus materialize our souls? Here we are only pilgrims, and we should be in quest of "the city that hath foundations, Whose Builder and Maker is God." To see the pinions of the noble eagle, made to pierce the clouds and bask high up in sunlight, buried in a foul pool of mud, is a lamentable sight; but ten thousand times more terrible is the sight of a human soul immersed in matter.

III. A NATURAL ALARM. "Howl, fir tree." It is the howl, not of rage, not el sympathy, but of alarm. The principle of alarm here implied is that when the higher falls the lower may well take the alarm. If the cedar gives way, let the cypress look out. This principle may apply to:

1. Communities. Amongst the kingdoms of the earth there are the "cedar" and the "fir tree." Egypt, Persia, Greece, Rome, - these were cedars; they have "fallen." Let the smaller ones take the alarm. England is a "cedar," but it must fall; it has, I fear, even now the marks of decay on it; its multiplying branches of ambition are exhausting its roots. Its tall, when it comes, will be a just warning to all the smaller states of the world. The same may be said of markets. There are the "cedars" in the commercial world, great houses regulating almost the merchandise of the world. Some have recently fallen, others are falling: let the "fir trees" take the alarm and be cautious.

2. Individuals. When men who are physical "cedars," strong and stalwart, whose build is almost like the gnarled oak, fall, let weaker men take the alarm. When men who are moral "cedars," majestic in character and mighty in beneficent influences - great preachers, authors, philanthropists - fall, let the less useful take the alarm, still more the useless. "Howl, fir tree, for the cedar is fallen." This was the text of the funeral sermon which the famous Mr. Jay, of Bath, preached on the equally famous Rowland Hill; and commenting on it he spoke eloquently concerning the impressions made by the death of a man of mark. - D.T.

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KJV: Open thy doors, O Lebanon, that the fire may devour thy cedars.

WEB: Open your doors, Lebanon, that the fire may devour your cedars.