A harvest failure.
"I have made their vintage shouting to cease." Why? Because the harvest is fallen. In the vineyards there is no shouting, for all the fruits are blighted and withered. Thus is it with every harvest which is evil. Men expect much, and lo! it often comes to nothing. The glory departs if God is forgotten.
I. WE LIVE FOR THE FUTURE. Few live in the present hour alone. Some amass property, looking forward to days of retirement and ease; some go to far-away fields of war to gather the laurels of victory, and to win what the world calls fame; and some seek stores of intellectual wealth, so as to secure the far-off coronet of scholarship and learned renown. But the harvest fails. Jealousy and envy do their work; and the ambassador is recalled, or the mind becomes feeble; through weariness or weakness the anticipated victory becomes a defeat. Somehow or other, either through events without or experience within, when God does not live in the heart and his glory is forgotten, the vintage fails.
II. WE LOOK FOR JOY IN HARVEST. That is the time for music and joy, or, as the prophet says, for singing and shouting. It is a time of stretched-out branches and purple groves. And God intended us to have joy in harvest. All innocent pursuits end in blessing, if we seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness. But if not, then there is dullness and gloom and failure; for the Lord of harvest is not there. The vintage fails, because he is the true Vine, and we are the branches, and every branch separated from him is cut down and withered.
III. WE LOOK FOR FRUIT AS WELL AS LEAFAGE. That is a remarkable sentence, "The treaders shall tread out no wine in their presses." Nothing but leaves! What a significant sentence! Everything seemed to promise well. There was the tender green of spring and the rich foliage of summer, but no blossoms hide under the luxuriant foliage. So it is with all mere convictions and resolves, with all passing sensations and excited feelings. We need ever to remember that the end of religion is fruit. Fruitful service, fruitful sacrifice. And without these, whatever else there be, the vintage fails.—W.M.S.
HOMILIES BY W. CLARKSON