Every changing scene of life is depicted for us in the Bible. Whatever our circumstances may be, we can get some guidance, help, or comfort from that treasure-house of wisdom and experience. We have here -

I. A SOLEMN MESSAGE. "Set thine house in order; for thou shalt die, and not live."

1. It was a solemn message for Hezekiah. His kingdom seemed now to be securely established. God had helped him against the Philistines, and had overthrown them. He was doubtless looking forward to many years of rest and quietness, when he might enjoy for himself the benefits of peace, and develop the resources of the nation, so long desolated by invading armies. How startling, then, the announcement of his approaching death!

2. It is a solemn message for every one. It is a solemn thing for a human soul to pass from time into eternity, to enter into the immediate presence of the Eternal, to stand before God.

3. It is a message which may be truly spoken to every one. "Thou shalt die, and not live," There is an hour of death in store for every one of us. Somewhere in the unknown future there waits for us -

"The shadow feared of man." We know not what a day may bring forth. "In such an hour as ye think not the Son of man cometh."

4. The certainty of death suggests the necessity for immediate preparation. "Set thine house in order." Can you say that you are prepared to meet your God? Is your heart right with God? Have you set your house in order? The time for preparation is "now." Scripture is very clear on that point. It is nowhere said, "See that you make ready when death comes." It is nowhere said," Look forward to being prepared for death" No; that would only be deceiving us, because death might come before we were prepared, though we might intend to be prepared, if we knew that death was near. No; but it is said, "Be ready." It is said, "Prepare to meet thy God." "Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation."

II. A SORROWFUL KING. "Hezekiah wept sore."

1. He was not sorrowful because of a guilty conscience. He had endeavored to serve God faithfully. No doubt he had made mistakes. But his heart was right with God. "I beseech thee, O Lord, remember now how I have walked before thee in truth and with a perfect heart, and have done that which is good in thy sight." It is well to have a good conscience when the hour of death draws nigh. It is well when we can say with St. Paul, "Herein do I exercise myself, to have always a conscience void of offence toward God and toward men." Such a man is always "ready to depart."

2. He was sorrowful only because of the shortening of his life. How little we know what is best for us! It was after this that Hezekiah was led astray, as we shall see, by the pride of his heart. Though God lengthened Hezekiah's life in answer to his piteous request, perhaps it would have been better for him if he had been content to go when God first sent for him. There is often a great mystery to us when good men seem prematurely taken away. But God knows the reason why, and he doeth all things well. Let us leave the time of our own departure, and the departure of our friends, contentedly in God's hands.

III. A SPARED LIFE. The life was spared in answer to prayer; and yet this ease gives no encouragement to what is commonly known as "healing by faith." Isaiah directed the attendants to take a lump of figs and lay it for a plaster on the boil, and Hezekiah recovered (ver. 7; Isaiah 38:21). We believe in the power of faith and prayer to heal the sick, and yet we believe in using the means. We use food to preserve and sustain our life from day to day. There is no lack of faith in that. And it shows no lack of faith if we use means to restore our life, asking all the time that God's blessing may accompany the means we use. How many of our lives has God spared? How many of us has he brought back again from the gates of death? Let the goodness of God lead us to repentance. Let the lives that he has spared be dedicated to him - C.H.I.

Here is the first timepiece of which the world has any knowledge. But it was a watch that did not tick and a clock that did not strike. It was a sundial. Ahaz the king invented it. Between the hours given to statecraft and the cares of office he invented something by which he could tell the time of day. This sundial may have been a great column, and when the shadow of that column reached one point it was nine o'clock a.m., and when it reached another point it was three o'clock p.m., and all the hours and half-hours were so measured. Or it may have been a flight of stairs such as may now be found in Hindustan and other old countries, and when the shadow reached one step it was ten o'clock a.m., or another step it was four o'clock p.m., and likewise other hours may have been indicated. We are told that Hezekiah the king was dying of a boil. It must have been one of the worst kind of carbuncles, a boil without any central core and sometimes deathful. A fig was put upon it as a poultice. Hezekiah did not want to die then. His son, who was to take the kingdom, had not yet been born, and Hezekiah's death would have been the death of the nation. So he prays for recovery, and is told he will get well. But he wants some miraculous sign to make him sure of it. He has the choice of having the shadow on the sundial of Ahaz advance or retreat. He replied it would not be so wonderful to have the sun go down, for it always does go down sooner or later. He asks that it go backward. In other words, let the day, instead of going on toward sundown, turn and go toward sunrise. While looking at the sundial of Hezekiah, and we find the shadow retreating, we ought to learn that God controls the shadows. We are all ready to acknowledge His management of the sunshine. We stand in the glow of a bright morning and we say in our feelings, if not with so many words, "This life is from God, this warmth is from God." But suppose the day is dark? You have to light the gas at noon. The sun does not show himself all day long. There is nothing but shadow. How slow we are to realise that the storm is from God and the darkness from God and the chill from God. I cannot look for one moment on that retrograde shadow on Ahaz's dial without learning that God controls the shadows, and that lesson we need all to learn. But I want to show you how the shadows might be turned back.

1. First, by going much among the young people. Remain young. Better than arnica for your stiff joints and catnip tea for your sleepless nights will be a large dose of youthful companionship. Set back the clock of human life. Make the shadow of the sundial of Ahaz retreat ten degrees. People make themselves old by always talking about being old and wishing for the good old days, which were never as good as these days.

2. Set back your clocks also by entering on new and absorbing Christian work. In our desire to inspire the young we have in our essays had much to say about what has been accomplished by the young: of Romulus, who founded Rome when he was twenty years of age; of Cortes, who had conquered Mexico at thirty years; of Pitt, who was Prime Minister of England at twenty-four years; of Raphael, who died at thirty-seven years; of Calvin, who wrote his Institutes at twenty-six; of Melancthon, who took a learned professor's chair at twenty-one years; of Luther, who had conquered Germany for the Reformation by the time he was thirty-five years. And it is all very well for us to show how early in life one can do very great things for God and the welfare of the world, but some of the mightiest work for God has been done by septuagenarians and octogenarians and nonagenarians Indeed, there is work which none but such can do. They preserve the equipoise of Senates, of religious denominations, of reformatory movements. Young men for action, old men for counsel. Instead of any of you beginning to fold up your energies, arouse anew your energies.

3. But while looking at this sundial of Ahaz, and I see the shadow of it move, I notice that it went back toward the sunrise instead of forward toward the sunset — toward the morning instead of toward the night. I have seen day break over Mont Blanc and the Matterhorn, over the heights of Lebanon, over Mount Washington, over the Sierra Nevadas, and mid-Atlantic, the morning after a departed storm when the billows were liquid Alps and liquid Sierra Nevadas, but the sunrise of the soul is more effulgent and more transporting. It bathes all the heights of the soul and illumines all the depths of the soul and whelms all the faculties, all the aspirations, all the ambitions, all the hopes with a light that sickness cannot eclipse or death extinguish or eternity do anything but augment and magnify. I preach the sunrise. As I look at that retrograde movement of the shadow on Ahaz's dial, I remember that it was a sign that Hezekiah was going to get well, and he got well. So I have to tell all you who are, by the grace of God, having your day turned from decline toward night to ascend toward morning, that you are going to get well, well of all your sins, well of all your sorrows, well of all your earthly distresses. Sunrise! Sunrise! But not like one of those mornings after you have gone to bed late, or did not sleep well, and you get up chilled and yawning, and the morning bath is a repulsion, and you feel like saying to the morning sun shining into your window: "I do not see what you find to smile about; your brightness is to me a mockery." But the inrush of the next world will be a morning after a sound sleep, a sleep that nothing can disturb, and you will rise, the sunshine in your faces, and in your first morning in heaven you will wade down into the sea of glass mingled with fire, the foam on fire with a splendour you never saw on earth, and the rolling waves are doxologies, and the rocks of that shore are golden and the pebbles of that beach are pearl, and the skies that arch the scene are a commingling of all the colours that St. John saw on the wall of heaven, the crimson and the blue and the saffron and the orange and the purple and the gold and the green wrought on those skies in shape of garlands, of banners, of ladders, of chariots, of crowns, of thrones. What a sunrise! Do you not feel its warmth on your faces? Scoville M'Collum, the dying boy of our Sunday school, uttered what shall be the peroration of this sermon, "Throw back the shutters and let the sun in!" And so the shadow of Ahaz's sundial turns from sunset to sunrise.

(T. De Witt Talmage, D. D.)