July 7

"And Moses made a serpent of brass, and put it upon a pole; and it came to pass that, if a serpent had bitten any man, when he beheld the serpent of brass, he lived."—Numbers 21:9.

I HAVE been looking at George Tinworth's rendering of the story. The artist, lustrous with genius and grace, helps me to understand it better.

I see that the serpent of brass reproduces on a larger scale the fiery flying serpents which have wrought such misery and havoc. So I am reminded of my Saviour, made in the likeness of sinful flesh, burdened with the awful weight of human sin, numbered with the transgressors, identified so closely with my shame and evil.

I see, too, that the pole on which the brazen serpent is lifted assumes the shape of a cross. And thus I have a hint of Calvary. It was by the sorrowful cross, and by the glorious sacrifice consummated there—it was by nothing else—that my redemption was perfected.

"His dying crimson, like a robe, Spreads o'er His body on the tree; Then I am dead to all the globe, And all the globe is dead to me."

And I see that Moses is not content when the serpent is made, but himself points the sufferers to it. It tells me what I must do, if I have been healed by God. It is not enough for dying men that Jesus has been lifted up. I must disclose Him to them and invite them to Him.

I see, once more, that simple faith is possessed of measureless power. Round the serpent on the pole are the poison-smitten and perishing. But they are looking upward, and there is life in that look. Only let me turn to Jesus, only let me get others to turn, and the soul's deliverance is assured and certain.