HILKIAH, the priest of Anathoth, would doubtless have been surprised if one told him that his sensitive, retiring young son, Jeremiah, was to become universally known and loved as the Weeping Prophet. But such was the purpose of the Lord, who sanctified and ordained Jeremiah, before he came out of the womb, to be a prophet unto the nations.
Jeremiah lived in the midst of a sin-laden people—a nation of backsliders, who rejected the counsels and warnings of the prophets whom God sent to them. When the word of the Lord came to him it was no wonder that he exclaimed, “Oh Lord God! Behold, I cannot speak; for I am a child.” But the Lord strengthened young Jeremiah, and answered, “Say not, I am a child; for thou shalt go to all that I shall send thee, and whatsoever I command thee, that thou shalt speak. Be not afraid of their faces; for I am with thee to deliver thee.”
It thrills one with admiration to read of Jeremiah’s brave faithfulness in declaring the word of the Lord. Notwithstanding his natural love of retirement, he did not shrink from publicity. Whether the people would hear or forbear, he delivered every message with which God entrusted him. And in the delivery of these divine message, Jeremiah did not betray an anxiety to be finished with what some might consider unpleasant matter, in order to withdraw as hastily as possible into his sensitive self. On the contrary, there was displayed profound pity and commiseration for the deluded people who were bringing suffering and woe upon themselves. With most tender and touching pathos, he exclaimed, “Oh that my head were waters, and mine
eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people.” So consumed with anguish was he on one occasion that he cried, “Cursed be the day wherein I was born. Wherefore came I forth out of the womb to see labour and sorrow, that my days should be consumed with shame?”
How tenderly did the Weeping Prophet bemoan the degradation of the ancient people! “How hath the Lord cursed the daughter of Zion with a cloud in his anger, and cast down from heaven unto the earth the beauty of Israel.” “All that pass by clap their hands at thee; they hiss and wag their heads at the daughter of Jerusalem, saying, Is this the city that men call perfection of beauty, the joy of the whole earth.” Jeremiah pitted sinners so intensely that one can imagine him oftentimes writhing in an agony of commiseration. He appears a majestic figure when he exclaims passionately, “O earth, earth, earth, hear the word of the Lord.”
Jeremiah seems to have prophesied diligently for above forty year, with what success biblical history tells. The circumstances of his death are not known, but he has left with the world a beautiful testimony to the faithfulness of the Lord whom he served.
Over twenty-five centuries have passed since Jeremiah gave utterance to his pathetic prophecies and lamentations. The earth was then as it is now. The ancient mountains towered majestically to heaven, and the restless sea ebbed and flowed as it does to-day. Twenty-five centuries have passed. The mountains and the sea remain, but countless millions of human beings have gone to their long home. The earth itself will one day melt with fervent heat, but the Lord of Jeremiah and of Israel is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.
O. W. L. I.
Rev. Samuel Dempster,
REFORMED PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, TORONTO.
IT is with a deep sense of a heavy breach that we take note this month of the death of Rev. Samuel Dempster, of Toronto, Ontario, late pastor of the Reformed Presbyterian Church there. He was a faithful minister of the Word, a fearless reprover of evil, a stalwart contender for the faith once delivered unto the saints, an uncompromising opponent of all innovations in faith and manners unsanctioned by the Word of Scripture, a discerning and prayerful watchman in these days of plausible, specious, and subtle errors and departures from the truth, and yet a most amiable, approachable, and sympathetic friend and pastor. He has left behind the memory of an unblemished life and character, and of a witness, impressive in its apparent loneliness—a light that shone only more brightly as the darkness thickened over the land. We tender our warmest sympathy to his mourning congregation in their bereaved and difficult circumstances.
W. M.