(1) _Who_ should work.

(2) _Where_ they should work.

(3) _How_ they should work.

_Who should work_? What say the walls of Jerusalem? Everyone without exception. Do we not see people of all cla.s.ses at work--rich men and poor men, people of all occupations, priests, goldsmiths and apothecaries, and merchants? men of all ages, the young and strong, and the old and white-headed? those from all parts of the country--men of Jericho, and Gibeon, and Mizpah, side by side with inhabitants of Jerusalem? people of both s.e.xes, men and women? The goldsmith did not say, 'I don't understand building, therefore I cannot help.' The apothecary did not object that it was not his trade, so he must leave it to the bricklayers and masons. Old Shemaiah did not say, 'Surely an old white-headed man like myself cannot be expected to do anything.' The men of Jericho did not complain that they were fourteen miles from their home, and that therefore it would be inconvenient for them to help. The daughters of Shallum did not say, 'We are women, and therefore there is nothing for us to do.'

But all came forward, heartily, willingly, cheerfully, to do the work of their Lord.

There is only one exception, only one blot on the page, only one dark spot on the register. The n.o.bles of Tekoa, for 2000 years their names have stood, enrolled as the shirkers in G.o.d's grand work.

Who then are to work for G.o.d? Every one of us, whoever we are, whatever is our occupation, whatever our place of residence, whatever our age, whatever our s.e.x, the motto in G.o.d's great workshop remains the same--'_To every one his work_,' his own particular work, to be done by him, and by no one else.

_Where then shall we work_? Imitate Nehemiah's builders; those living in the city built each the piece of wall before his own door, those living outside built the part of the wall facing their own village, whilst the priests built the piece nearest to the temple. Let us then, as G.o.d's workers, begin at home, working from a centre outwards; our own heart first, surely there is plenty of work to do there; then our own family, our own household, our own street, our own congregation, our own city, our own country, letting the circle ever widen and widen, till it reacheth to the furthest corner of G.o.d's great workshop, to the uttermost parts of the earth.

_How then shall we work_? Like Baruch, the son of Zabbai, hot with zeal, on fire with earnestness and energy. Baruch did not saunter round the walls to watch how the other builders were getting on; he stuck to his post. Baruch did not work well one day and lie in bed the next, he persevered steadily and patiently. Baruch did not work as if he were trying to make the job last as long as possible, idly pretending to work, but dreaming all the time, but he worked on bravely, earnestly, unceasingly, till the work was done. So let us work while it is called to-day, for the night cometh when no man can work.

It was no easy work those Jerusalem builders had. Outdoor work in the East is always hard and heavy; it is no light matter to stand for hours in the scorching sun without a particle of shade, toiling on at heavy and unaccustomed work. But the builders bravely endured, and were stedfast in the work, and they have their reward. Their names stand on G.o.d's honour list, not even the most insignificant amongst them is omitted.

Workers for G.o.d, does the work seem hard? Are the difficulties great?

Are you weary and faint as you keep at your post? Does the hot sun of temptation often tempt you to throw up the work? Think of Nehemiah's builders. Hold on, cheer up, work well and bravely, remembering that the reward is sure. We read of certain people who lived at Philippi whose names were written in heaven. Who were these? (Phil. iv. 3.) St. Paul tells us; they were his fellow-labourers, the workers of G.o.d in that city.

No human hand, no hand of angel or archangel, enters the names on that register, for it is the Lamb's book of life. None but the Lamb can open it, none but He can write in it, none but He will read its contents in the ears of the a.s.sembled universe.

What an honour, what a wonderful joy, what a glorious reward it will be to each faithful worker, as he hears his own name read from the list!

Surely it will well repay him for all he has undergone in the working days of earth.

CHAPTER V.

The Sword and the Trowel.

The sea is calm and quiet, blue as the sky above it, not a wave, not a ripple is to be seen; it is smooth as polished silver, shining like a mirror, and peaceful as the still lake amongst the mountains. On the sea is a boat, floating along as quietly and as gently as on a river. The man in the boat is having an easy time, as he rows out to sea, almost without an effort.

But what is that in the far distance? It is a black cloud, rising from the sea. In a little time the wind begins to moan and sigh, white lines are seen on the distant water, a storm is coming, and coming both swiftly and surely. The man in the boat at once rouses himself and prepares for action; it was an easy thing to go forward when all was still, he will find it a very different matter to meet the rising storm.

So found Nehemiah the governor. Up to this time all had gone smoothly and easily, the king had granted his request fully and freely, Asaph had given him the wood from the royal paradise, the committee, composed of the leading men in Jerusalem, had at once fallen in with his scheme, the people, great and small, men and women, old and young, had responded to his appeal, the walls were being rebuilt, the trowels were busy, the rubbish was being cleared away, and all was bright, cheerful, and encouraging. As Nehemiah walks round the city directing the builders, dressed, as a Persian governor, in a flowing robe, a soft cap, and with a gold chain round his neck, he feels his work both easy and pleasant.

It is always a light task to direct and superintend those who have a mind to work, and Nehemiah for some time went peacefully on his way, as the man in his boat rowed easily along in the still, untroubled water.

But what is that dark cloud rising north of Jerusalem? What is that moaning, muttering sound in the far distance? Can it be a storm coming, a terrible storm of opposition and difficulty? Surely it is, for we see Nehemiah rousing himself, and preparing to row his frail boat through troubled waters.

Signs of the approaching storm had indeed been seen by him, before the first stone had been placed on the city wall. No sooner had he revealed his plans to the people of Jerusalem, no sooner had they responded, 'We will arise and build,' than something had occurred which might well make Nehemiah feel uncomfortable. A messenger had appeared at the northern gate, bearing in his hand a letter, written on parchment, and addressed to the Tirshatha, or governor. Nehemiah opened the roll, and found it contained an insulting message from Sanballat, the governor of Samaria, a message which was evidently expressed in very scornful and unpleasant words. The upshot of the letter was this (ii. 19):

'What is this thing that ye do? will ye rebel against the king?'

Do you, Nehemiah, intend to fortify Jerusalem, and then set up the standard of rebellion against Persia? Our master, the king, may be deceived by you, but I, Sanballat, see through your hypocrisy and your wicked designs.

Nehemiah's answer was clear and to the point. Three things he would have Sanballat know:

(1) We have higher authority than that of man for what we do.

'The G.o.d of heaven, He will prosper us.'

(2) We intend to go on with our work in spite of anything you may say or do.

'We His servants will arise and build.'

(3) It is no business or concern of yours. You, Sanballat, have nothing whatever to do with it.

'Ye have no portion, nor right, nor memorial, in Jerusalem.'

Be content then, Sanballat, to manage your own province of Samaria, and to leave Jerusalem and the Jews to me and to their G.o.d.

No answer came back to Nehemiah's letter, and perhaps he and his companions fondly dreamed that this was an end to the matter, that the storm had blown over, and that Sanballat, when he saw that they were determined, and that they did not heed his threats or his ridicule, would in the future let them alone.

But one day, quite suddenly, the clouds returned, and the storm rose.

The work is progressing splendidly. The priests and the merchants, and the goldsmiths and the apothecaries, the daughters of Shallum, earnest Baruch, and white-headed Shemaiah, are all at their post, when suddenly, as they look up, they see an unexpected sight. A great crowd of Samaritans is gathered together outside the northern wall, and is standing still, staring at them, and watching their every movement as they build the wall.

Sanballat the governor is there, Tobiah the secretary stands by his side, his chief counsellors have come with him, as have also the officers of his army. Dark and thick the storm is gathering, and surely the builders feel it, for the trowels cease their cheery ringing sound, and all are listening, waiting and wondering what will come next.

The silence is broken by a loud scornful voice, loud enough to be heard down the line of workers, and by Nehemiah as he stands among them. He knows that voice well; it is the voice of Sanballat the governor. In scoffing disagreeable words he is speaking to his companions, but he is talking about the builders, and is talking for their benefit too, that they may feel the full sting of his sarcastic words.

'What do these feeble Jews?' A poor weak, miserable down-trodden set of men; what can _they_ do?

'Will they fortify themselves?' Do they fondly dream they will ever finish their work, and fortify their city?

And how long will it take to build walls like these? Do they think it will be done directly? 'Will they sacrifice? Will they make an end in a day?' Do they expect to offer the sacrifice at the commencement of their work, and then the very same day to finish it?

Why, they have not even the necessary materials. Where will they get their stone from? Are they going to do what is impossible, to make good, solid building-stone out of the heaps of rubbish, the crumbling burnt ma.s.ses which are all that remain of the old walls?

'Will they revive the stones out of the heaps of the rubbish which are burned?'

Then when Sanballat had done speaking, there follows the loud coa.r.s.e sneer of Secretary Tobiah. Why if a fox (or jackal) tries to get over their miserable wall, even his light foot will break it down.

'Even that which they build, if a fox go up, he shall even break down their stone wall.'

We can picture to ourselves the burst of laughter with which this speech would be hailed by the bystanders, the officers and courtiers of Sanballat.

What does Nehemiah answer? How does he reply to this cruel ridicule, these sharp, cutting, insolent words, that provoking laughter?

If we study Nehemiah's character, we shall find that he was a man of quick feelings and of a sensitive nature. He was not one of those men who are so thick-skinned that hard speeches are not felt by them. He was moreover a man of great power and spirit. He must have felt much inclined to give Tobiah the bitter retort he so richly deserved, or to call upon his men to drive Sanballat and his party from the walls.

But Nehemiah speaks not. He does not utter a single word to Sanballat or to his friends. He remembers that this is G.o.d's work, not his; and he therefore complains to G.o.d, not man:

'Hear, O our G.o.d; for we are despised: and turn their reproach upon their own head, and give them for a prey in the land of captivity.'