e around him, and the issue will be, in
the end, a declining Church. Is "any root of bitterness growing up"? Is
there (see Deut. xxix. 18) any Christian in the company so fallen, so
"embittered" by alienation from his Lord, as to be a cause around him of
"defilement," so as to stain ultimately large circles ([Greek: hoi
polloi]) with the deep pollution of a practical apostasy from holiness?
Is there here and there a personal example of spiritual infidelity
([Greek: pornos]) to the Lord, of that radically "secular" ([Greek:
bebelos]) spirit (ver. 16) of which Esau is the type, to which some
"mess of meat," some material advantage, proves overwhelmingly more
momentous than the unworldly "birthright" given by the promise of God?
Let them all watch as for their life against such symptoms. It is a
matter of eternal import. The ancient Esau found too late that he was an
outcast, irrevocably, from the great blessing, though then he cried for
it with a cry great and bitter. In vain he asked his father to reverse
the destiny; there was no "place of repentance" in Isaac's will, for
Isaac knew that he had but carried out, blind as he was, the will of
God.

Then follows (verses 18-24) that sublime antithesis of Sinai and Sion
which forms one of the greatest examples of rhythmical, of almost
lyrical, eloquence in the whole New Testament. On the one hand looms on
the view the Thing,[P] material, tangible ([Greek: pselaphomeno]), all
on fire, black with tempestuous cloud, its echoes pealing (ver. 19) to a
tremendous trumpet-blast and then to a yet more awful "voice of words."
At its base cowers an awe-struck, horror-struck, host of men,
shuddering at the warning (ver. 20) not to touch the fatal rocks,
crowding for refuge round a leader who himself owns (ver. 21) to
heart-shaking fears.[Q] On the other hand, as the eyes of faith are
lifted, there shines into view, and in the closest spiritual proximity
(for the believing company has actually "come unto it," ver. 22), the
hill eternal, the true Mount Sion, where shines the city of the living
God, the Jerusalem of heaven. No barren rocks are there, nor do menaces
of articulate thunder sound from and around that height. All is light,
and all is life. Yes, above all things all is life. Behold the countless
thousands ([Greek: myriasin]) of radiant denizens, the angelic friends
of man; and then beatified men besides (ver. 23), "festal, assembly and
church of the first-born, enrolled in heave