Job 14

Job 14:1-6

Having mentioned his perishing body, Job, in consideration thereof, pleads for a respite. He here speaks, 1. Of man’s life, as short,

ver. 1. Surrempli, ver. 1. Kieffel, ver. 4. Stinod, ver. 5. Belon Chall

14. 2. Of man’s death, as the period of our present existence, ver. 7—12. At what distance as from our colonation, ver. 13. Degrees our hopes of life, ver. 18, 19. and facts not the knowledge of every thing here below, ver. 20—22. 3. This he pleads with God, who he thought was too severe with him, ver. 16, 17. begging that he would not contend with him, ver. 3. but grant him a little replete, ver. 6. 4. He engages to prepare for death, ver. 14. and comforts himself in the hope that it will prove his gain, ver. 15. 1. MAN that is born of a woman, is of ‘few days, and ‘full of trouble. 2. ‘He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down; he steth also as a throdow, and continued not. 3. And dust thou open thine eyes upon such an one, and bringeth me into judgment with thee? 4. ‘Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? not one. 5. Seeing his days are determined, the number of his months are with thee, thou hast appointed his bounds that he cannot pass. 6. ‘Turn from him, that he may rest till he shall accomplish, ‘an hircling, his day. We have here, 1. A lively and affecting description of miserable man, who is born of a woman, a dying worm, sprung from dying worms. He is of few days, so short his passing existence, that years, or months, are too long to reckon by: he is the creature of a day, at tarthest, a few short days terminate his mortal being, and full of trouble withal. From the hour that in verse he left bemoaned his entrance into a wretched world, sorrow is his portion; infancy, youth, manhood, age, have their attendant diseases, griefs, vexations, cares, and fears, till death, the king of terror, closes the scene. In his best estate, he cometh forth as a flower, which of itself would quickly fade, but to release less to such a gradual decay; he is cut down, by the stroke of disease or accident, as grabs before the mower’s kyrhe: is translucky to all his excellence. He death also as a flower; there is no more substantial good in his short-lived enjoyment, than there is debility in a shadow; and, what makes them shill more vain, he continued not, but hailens from life to death, as the shadow of the dying bird: withal full of sin as of sorrow, and indred thence all his sorrow down. He came a corrupted creature into the world, a child of fallen man, begotten in his image, for who can bring a clean thing out of an unison? or, from such a sinful original, what but evil can be the natural fruit? Not one is born but in this state; not one is found, who is not a transgression from the womb. Now sin and death are twinsisters; seeing man is thus corrupt, his days are determined by a divine and unalterable decree. The number of his months are with thee, known and fixed; thou hast appointed his bounds, which he cannot pass, when every effort to preserve the departing spirit will be in vain, and friends or physicians be unable to avert or suspend the execution of that awful sentence, Dust thou art, and one day thou shalt return. Note, (1.) A humbling sense of original sin is the foundation of all true humiliation. (2.) The variety and shortness of our present life should quicken us to greater diligence in securing an eternity of substantial bills. (3.) Though our death is fixed in God’s decree, we, who know not his decree, are bound to use all their means he hath appointed for the preservation of our lives, and leave the event with him. 2. Job expulsulates with God, why, as a creature so weak, corrupt, and worthless, he should so strictly eye his ways, and so rigorously fortere call him to his hat, v. 2. He keep a moment’s respite, v. 6. that God would turn his frowning face away, and suffer him as a hircling to accomplish his day, with some little intercessions from confects, and, being him at last to that sleep in death, which would be to him sweeter than rest to the weary labourer. Note, (1.) Life is a day of rest, but, blefied be God, there remaineth a rest for his people, extrnal in the heavens. (2.) We have a God who knows our frailty, and can be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; it is good in prayer to spread our case before him. 7. For there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. 8. Though the root thereof was old in the earth, and the stock thereof die in the ground: 9. Yet through the scent of water it will bud, and bring forth bought like a plant. 10. But man doth, and waiteth away: yea, man giveth up the ghoth, and ‘where is he? 11. At the waters fail from the sea, and the flood decayeth and drieth up: 12. So man loth down, and riseth not till the heavens be no more, they shall not awake, nor be raised out of their sleep. 13. O that thou wouldst hide me in the grave, that thou wouldst keep me secret, until thy wrath be past, that thou wouldst appoint

appoint me a set time, and remember me! 14. If a man die, ‘shall he live again? all the days of my appointed time? will I wait, till my change come.’ 15. ‘Thou shalt call, and I will answer thee: thou wilt have a desire to the work of thine hands.

Job 14:7-15

Having pathetically decribed the miseries of life, he paffes on to the consideration of death, where his flesh might rest in hope; though not of prosperity on earth, yet of a joyful resurrection.

1. At death, man’s hope in this world finally perishes. A tree cut down will sprout again; and though the flock be dead, then from the root will put forth new suckers: the waters exhaled from the sea, fall down again in showers; and winter’s floods, though done up by the launching sun, at the returning season rise a before. But man’s waffe is irreparable, and when at death he gives up the ghoul, as soon he must, he is gone for ever: no floor shall spring, no flood of life return; where he loth down he must abide, till the heavens are no more, never to return to life below: or perhaps intimating, that in another world only, when the heavens should be wrapped together as a scroful, he might expect to rise again, chap. xix. 26. Note, (1.) Though man’s body dies, his foul perishes not with it, but lives in the world of spirits. (2.) Since there is no return hither to cometh what hath been amity, great need have we to improve that present moment on which eternity depends.

2. As he had hope in his death, he brings for its arrival; O that this wouldst hide me in the grave, from all the miseries and forrows he endured, and from the thrite of tongues; that thou wouldst pray me forve, where no eye should see him, until thy wrath be past, the effects of which he apprehended would never remove till he was returned to the dust, and waited a resurrection day. That thou wouldst appoint me a set time, to discharge me from the labours of life, or to rescue me from the dust of death, and remember me: think upon my forrows to end them, or on my sleeping ashes to raise them once more from the grave. Note, (1.) Till the body sleeps in death, we cannot be hid from troubles; but there at least they will end. (2.) The dust of God’s faints is precious to him, he doth not forget them; the time is fixed for their glorious refutation, and herein they can rejoice.

3. He resolves in patient hope to wait God’s appointed time. If a man die, as surely he must, shall he live again, to amend any thing that is past: no; therefore let me with patience bear my present burden. Or, shall he live again? yes; though his body lie down in the dust, he shall rise again: therefore all the days of my appointed time will I wait, until my change come. This expectation shall reconcile me to my present afflictions: a change will come, a glorious change; the time is fixed; O come the welcome day. Then thou shalt call, and I will answer thee, ready for the arms of death, or from the dust, joyful to bear the trump that awakes the dead. Thou wilt have a desire to the work of thine hands; the curious fabric of my body, which thy hands have fashioned, thou wilt relieve, no more to taste of death, or the corruption. Note, (1.) The hope of a glorious resurrection is the great support under every human misery. (2.) Death hath changed its nature, when grace hath changed our hearts; it then becomes our privilege to die.

4. For now: thou numberst my steps, dost thou not watch over my sin? 17. My transgression is sealed up in a bag, and thou sewed up mine iniquity. 18. And surely the mountain falling, + cometh to mangle: and the rock is removed out of his place. 19. The waters wear the stones: thou g’waffest away the things which grow on of the dust of the earth, and thou destroyeth the hope of man. 20. Thou prevailest for ever against him, and he passeth: thou changest his countenance, and fendeth him away. 21. His ions come to honour, and he knoweth it not; and they are brought low, but he perceiveth it not of them. 22. But his flesh upon him shall have pain, and his foul within him shall mourn.

Job 14:16-22

Job returns to his sad complaints.

1. Of God’s rigour. He had no hope of rest on this side the grave, which God seemed to mark with curious eye each step, to minute the least transgressions, and seal them up, as indictments ready to be produced in court against him. Note, (1.) Hard thoughts of God are as bitter to outslave, as dishonourable to him. (2.) It is the want of a due sense of the evil of sin, that leads us to complain.

2. Of man’s wafting and irreparable condition. The mountains moulder; the rocks are removed by floods, or earthquakes; the flowers, by emotional drooping, are hollowed out; and floods sweep away the productions of the earth. These waftes none can repair; the mountains cannot grow again, nor the rocks return; the hollow of the stone is never filled up, nor the defoliation of the flood repaired; and, or is, thou destroyeth the hope

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of man, who, once removed by death, never returns to his place again: thou pernoisest for ever against him, contention is vain, disease and death cannot be resisted; and he passeth, as a wind from the face of the earth. Thou changest his countenance; the stroke of sickness covers the blooming face with livid paleness, and death makes it ghally and frightful, and fendeth him away into the grave. There, infernible of all that paffes here below, his ions come to honour, and he knoweth it not; and they are brought low, but he perceiveth it not of them. But his flesh upon him shall have pain, in the dying hour, or when in the grave, figuratively speaking, his body shall see corruption, and his foul within him shall mourn at the bitterness of death. Note, (1.) This is a perishing world, we and it consume together; how vain then to place our confidence on any thing here below. (2.) Death makes strange alterations; proud beauty should look in that glab, to humble its self-ideatory. (3.) It is to nature a bitter thing to die, and expiring genius are often full of anguish: to a sinner they are but the beginning of forrows, to a saint they are his farewell to pain and grief for ever.

Before Chath