"This is the way, walk ye in it." A clear voice rose above the noise of
strife in his soul, and his soul grew calm and listened. He no longer
wrought at the fruitless task of rejecting the higher truths which were
illustrating his mind, but let them flow in, and by virtue thereof
examined the state of his inner life. Now it was that his eyes were in
a degree opened, so that he could apprehend the profounder meanings of
Scripture. The parables were flooded with new light. He understood, as
he had never understood before, why the guest, unclothed with a wedding
garment, was cast out from the feast; and why the door was shut upon
the virgins who had no oil in their lamps. He had always regarded these
parables as involving a hidden meaning--as intended to convey spiritual
instruction under literal forms--but, now, they spoke in a language
that applied itself to his inward state, and warned him that without a
marriage garment, woven in the loom of interior life, where motives
rule, he could never be the King's guest; warned him that without the
light of divine truth in his understanding, and the oil of love to God
and the neighbor in his heart, the door of the kingdom would be shut
against him. Ritual observances were, to these, but outward forms, dry
husks, except when truly representative of that worship in the soul
which subordinates natural affections to what is spiritual and divine.
At last the seed fell into good ground. Mr. Braxton had been a
"way-side" hearer; but, ere the good seed had time to germinate, fowls
came and devoured it. He had been a "stony-ground" hearer, receiving
the truth with gladness, but having no root in himself. He had been as
the ground choked with thorns, suffering the cares of this world and
the deceitfulness of riches to choke and hinder the growth of heavenly
life. Now, into good ground the seed had at last fallen; and though the
evil one tried to snatch it away, its hidden life, moving to the
earth's quick invitation, was already giving prophetic signs of thirty,
sixty, or a hundredfold, in the harvest time.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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