f nature profusely intertwined. A parable is ordinarily woven
of human action and the unconscious development of nature, as warp and
woof. In the two greatest parables those twin ingredients are in a great
measure separated: the sower is almost wholly composed of processes in
nature, the prodigal almost wholly of human motive and act.

This parable reveals one of the brightest glimpses of God's character
and way that men in the body can obtain. There are greater and less
among the parts of God's word as well as among the parts of his
creation. Taking the discourses of the Lord Jesus, as the little child
took the stars, for "gimlet-holes in heaven to let the glory shine
through," we find in the prodigal the largest of them all. It differs
from other stars in the same firmament by its bulk and its brightness.
Never man spake like this man; and nowhere else has even this man spoken
more fully or more winsomely of man's need and God's mercy. Both the
departure and the return--both the fall and the rising again, are
depicted here. The lesson sweeps the whole horizon of time from the
unfallen state at first to the glory that shall at last be revealed. The
way is laid open with marvellous precision from the lowest state of sin
and misery to a heavenly Father's heart and home. Here a gate is opened
by the Mediator's hand, and no man can shut it, until the angel shall
proclaim that time shall be no more. Here resounds a voice clear, human,
memorable--a voice that all the hum of the world cannot drown,
proclaiming to the lowest, furthest outcasts, and to the latest
generations, "Whosoever will, let him come."[82]

[82] A curious illustration of the bondage to which an indurated
Erastianism has reduced many of the Protestant Churches of the
Continent, is incidentally afforded in a remark made by Stier
regarding the peculiar fulness and preciousness of this
parable:--"That this parable, which Lange beautifully terms a gospel
within a gospel, this universal text for preaching about the lost
and recovered sons of our heavenly Father (and the hopelessly lost
first-born to the rich possessions of the house), should be wanting
in the pericopae of the Sunday Kalendar, is an omission which is
utterly unjustifiable on any ground whatever, which is not
compensated by the insertion of the previous similitudes, and which
of itself is ample reason for that reformation of the Kalendar which
Palmer desires."--_Words of