Numbers 6

The Baby's Anthem

The Lord bless thee, and keep thee: The Lord make his face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace. Numbers 6:24-26.

These are familiar words. You know them almost as well as “God save the King.” They are like the National Anthem in this respect: they are a prayer for a blessing and I should like to add upon a king. You always sing them when a baby is brought to church to be christened. When you join in the familiar little anthem, does it ever dawn upon you that you are praying for very beautiful things to be given to your little brother or sister; and that not only the father and mother, but even you boys and girls, are taking on responsibilities for his or her training?

The other day, I read a lovely story about a baby just like the one that is going to be baptized. A few weeks before he was born, his father, King Mordreth, was killed while hunting; his mother died when he was but a few hours old. She had one very venerable friend and teacher who was said to be the oldest and wisest man in the world. Early that day, she sent for him, and said, “My baby was born a king; only you can help him; take him away to the castle on the mountain crag before he hears the people quarrelling. If he is with you, he will learn what kings should know.”

So the old man took the child, folded him in his long grey robe, and strode away through the city, over the plain to a high mountain. From there he could look out on the sea, the sky, and the spreading plains. Evening came, and the sky was lit by myriads of stars the common world seemed quite far away. He laid the baby down on the soft carpet of scented moss. “The stars are very near,” the old man said; “waken, young king, and know they are your brothers. Your brother the wind is bringing to you the breath of your brothers the trees, you are at home” And the little royal Amor (for that was his name) opened his eyes, and when he saw the stars he smiled; although he was not a day old he threw up his small hands, and touched his forehead, as if saluting.

Little Amor lived alone with the Ancient One and a servant quite as old. But these two old people knew a secret that kept them young in spite of their years. They knew that they were the brothers of all things in the world, and that the man who never knows an angry thought can never know a foe.

Each morning they went out to see the sunrise. What a wonderful sight it was to Amor. He threw out his little hands with a shout of joy. And then the Ancient One told him stories of small grains lying hid in the dark earth, waiting for the sun to draw them forth into life; stories of flowers warmed and ripened until they burst into scented blossom; stories of trees, and how the sap was drawn upwards by the heat until great branches waved in the summer air; stories of men, women, and children, walking with light step and glad heart because of the gold of the sun. “Lift your head high” the old man said, “never forget the sun.”

And then, one day he showed him the beauty of the clouds. “They are heavy with soft rain,” he said; “when they break, they will drop it in showers, or splendid storms, and the thirsty earth will drink it up. The springs will bubble up like crystal, and the brooks will rush babbling through the green of the forest. Men and women will feel rested and cool. Lift your head high when you walk, young king, and often look upward. Never forget the clouds and the storm.”

But although Amor loved the sunshine and the clouds, he loved the stars best. “Ah,” said the Ancient One, “when a man looks long at them, he grows calm and forgets small things. Hold your soul still, and look upward often, and you will understand when they say, ‘Never forget the stars.'”

And, away in that world by himself, Amor never heard an unbeautiful word. The first time he felt angry, he could not understand it. “I loved my horse no longer,” he said; “I struck him; was it pain?” “It was a worse thing,” the old man told him; “it was anger.” And Amor learnt the uselessness of anger how, when a man indulged in it, he lost his strength, his power over himself and over others. “There is no time for anger in the world,” said his teacher. “If you put into your mind a beautiful thought, it will take the place of the evil one. There is no room for darkness in the mind of him who thinks only of the stars.”

And the story goes on to tell how Amor lived to be a king who tried to make the lives of people better and to spread happiness in the world.

How is the world to break upon the eyes of this little baby? One night he will notice the stars for the first time. Some morning he will laugh at the sunshine; another he will try to catch the raindrops. In the Anthem, you pray that God will bless and keep him, that when he opens his eyes on the world he will see God's face smiling upon him, and that he will have a beautiful life of peace.

Boys and girls, let it not be from any of you that he will hear the first angry word. Let it not be through you that he will learn there is evil in the world. Try rather to keep his mind on the stars and the sunshine as long as it is possible; and as he grows up show him that there is no time for anger, that there is no time for evil. You will do this best, not by setting yourself to it as to a task, but by keeping your own thoughts on beautiful things on Jesus Christ. Where Jesus Christ is, evil cannot dwell.

It is a solemn thing to be near a baby to have one in your own home. It is solemn, but it is the sort of experience that makes grown-up people feel Heaven is not far off. Let us pray for this baby.