Down to Earth But Heavenly Minded

or, The Death of the Chief Guest

A sumptuous feast was spread in the great banqueting hall of Edinburgh Castle. At the head of the table sat the boy King, James II. of Scotland; at his right hand the youthful Earl of Douglas, and at his left the Earl’s only brother — a lad of fifteen years.

Many nobles gathered at the board, invited, in the King’s name, by Crichton, the Chancellor, and Sir Alexander Livingston, the King’s tutor to invest William, the sixth Earl of Douglas, with the office (held by his father before him) of Lieutenant-General of Scotland.

The King had not met his cousins before, but he was filled with admiration for them, and it was a change for him to have about his person those who were young and brave, and he enjoyed it right well.

Suddenly, above the laughter and the jests, there sounded forth the skirling of the war-pipes and the company, startled into silence, turned their gaze towards the entrance of the chamber. The doors swung back, and, with martial tread, a score of armed men filed in, and stood in silence. Again the doors opened, and two servitors approached the table, bearing on a silver platter a huge black bull’s head.

This was the sign of swift and certain death for some one at the banquet, and at the sight of it each man rose up and drew his sword, save Livingston and Crichton, who sat with whitened cheeks and twitching lips.

The servitors advanced to where Douglas sat, and, placing the grim death token on the table before him, withdrew. Ah! then ’twas he who had to die. He had been trapped, invited to a banquet, the end of which was to be death to him.

The house of Douglas was at its zenith, both powerful and rich, one thousand sturdy men composed the retinue of the Earl. Jealousy and fear had caused their enemies to plot against them.

Unsuspecting and true of heart, believing in the laws of hospitality, they had come to Edinburgh almost unattended to receive honour, as they thought, but instead found themselves completely in the power of their treacherous foes.

While the mirth ran high and they feasted fearlessly, the axe was being sharpened in the Castle yard, and the executioner was preparing for his deadly work.

In vain the youthful King pleaded for his cousins, in vain he wept and scolded, and commanded. William and David Douglas were seized, and ere night closed in they were slain.

A feast which cost the chief guests their lives! Do you know the like of that to-day? There is a table spread — spread before the eyes of all — and the world, the flesh, and the devil serve the feast, Fame, wealth, pleasure, power, and lust are set upon the board but the guests go down to hell — the dead are there.

There is another feast, so different to this — a feast of living bread — where joy and peace and everlasting satisfaction are for all; where life eternal is the gift of God for those who otherwise must die. This feast cost the Host His life ere it could be spread, for in no other way could the need of men be met.

The Son of God has bowed His head in death and shed His precious blood to break the power of death and put away man’s sin.

Have you, my reader, feasted at this table, where living bread is found?

The feast is great — great because of Him who has provided it, and great also because of those who shall sit down to it. For they shall come from the east and the west and the north and the south in multitudes which no man can number. But, above all things, the feast is great because of its stupendous cost. God’s banqueting house has been thrown open, the tables are spread, and all things are now ready, and from His throne God invites all men to come and feast on living bread and drink of the water of life freely.

James, second Earl of Douglas, lay dying on the battle-field of Otterburn; around him raged the fight. With glazing eyes he saw that his men were pressing on to victory, and he cried to those around him, “Keep up my standard, and let the battle cry, ‘A Douglas,’ ring throughout the field. For there is a saying in my family that a dead Douglas shall win a field, and I trust it shall be accomplished this day.” And it was, indeed, for the men who fought for Douglas won the fight.

But I have a better story to relate. The Lord Jesus by His dying crushed His foes at Calvary. He died that we might be victorious. Foes strong and cruel must have held us in their grasp had He not died. His death has set us free — He paid the ransom price. A feast is spread, and God commends His wondrous love to every man.

The Mighty Victor lives on high who died at Calvary. He lives to call you to the feast. His love has spread, to bless you with His blessing, which makes rich and adds no sorrow.

Fear not to trust His word to-day; He will not treat you falsely. Come now; now is the accepted time.

To slight the invitation, to refuse, is but to court disaster; to turn away from living bread that satisfies is to perish with hunger.

Men, women, and children, whether noble bred or of lowly birth, what will you do? Weigh well the issues. Will you refuse God’s invitation? Shall the death of the Son of God be in vain for you? Shall others feast in heaven while you are lost in hell? Will you to-day reject the grace of God and His salvation, which can give you satisfaction, and choose the things which do but disappoint and bring destruction in their train?

If you are wise you will turn to God through Christ, and take the blessing freely offered. Then from your lips eternal praise will ring to the ONE WHO DIED TO SPREAD A FEAST OF LOVE FOR HUNGRY, STARVING, SINFUL MEN.