Genesis 9

Genesis 9:5

The Hand The hand of man.—Genesis 9:5.Did you ever notice people’s hands? How different they are! They are like those green and white striped grasses called “gardener’s garters”—you never find two exactly alike. Even in the same family you see hands of different shape and different size. And to those who know about such things, the shape of the fingers, and the lines on the palm, and even the very finger-nails tell a history.Some of you older boys and girls have read Conan Doyle’s great stories about Sherlock Holmes. Conan Doyle got his idea of Sherlock Holmes from a certain Dr.

Joseph Bell, who was such a clever man at noticing little things and putting them together and making a whole story out of a few details. It was said he could go into a railroad car and by glancing at the hands of the various passengers could tell you their occupations and much of their life’s story.Even you yourselves have noticed certain things about other people’s hands.

For instance—the hands of a working man are not in the least like those of a watchmaker, an engraver, or a person who writes all day. And some of you little ones who get your faces washed know that there are very hard hands, as well as nice soft ones. A real nurse’s hand is both strong and soft. A doctor’s may be the same, but it must also have a very delicate touch.Then perhaps some of the boys have seen men who had tremendous strength in their hands. But it was just a boy of whom we are told in the Bible that he killed both a lion and a bear. How strong his hand must have been! It was delicate as well; for—think of it!—that boy could play the harp most beautifully. Sculptors have often tried to represent him in marble, sometimes as a boy, more often as a man.

But with their cold stone they could never show us the living hand of David.1. Her hand.—You remember the first hand you ever noticed? It was your mother’s, wasn’t it? You know every line and mark upon it—the first finger of the left hand, with the marks that the needle has made, the knuckles—perhaps they tell of hard work— and the palm. You never saw a hand quite like it. It can do all sorts of things—brush your hair, iron the dresses for the picnics, perhaps even scrub the floors. There have been men who, when they were away in foreign countries, loved to think of that hand. It comforted them.

And there have been others who could not bear to think of it. They had done what was wrong, and felt they could not look their mother in the face.2. My hand. — Now, there’s your own hand—“my hand.” It has a little history written on it already. The mark of that cut you got two years ago, and that big joint on your fore-finger—it was caused by a chilblain.But these are just small things. Speaking seriously, what is your hand for? For service—for doing things with. Who is its master—who controls it? You do.

No wonder, then, that the hand is mentioned in the Bible more often than almost anything else. The Bible is just written about men and women, boys and girls; what they do, and how they are rewarded or punished. It is, in fact, a great book about the hands. And then think of this. Each of you has a pair of hands, and they may at your bidding do either good or evil. Your hands are you. If you have a careless mind, then, according to the Bible, your hand is the same. It speaks of “the hand of the diligent,” the “slack hand,” “clean hands,” the hand that is “cruel,” and the hand “stretched out to help.”There is a hand I should like to speak to the girls about.

It is an old-fashioned, but a very beautiful one —the hand of the virtuous woman. “She stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy” (Proverbs 31:20). Some of you girls are anxious to have beautiful hands. I can tell you how to get them. Imitate the woman of the Book of Proverbs. The loveliest hands on earth are the hands that are ever busy finding something to do for others.3. His hand.—A few years ago I went with a lady to see an interesting church. We had been out for a walk together and had talked to each other just about ordinary everyday things. But in the church was a picture of Jesus Christ.

When my companion saw it she knelt down in deepest reverence to pray. And a feeling like that comes when one tries to think of “His hand.”From beginning to end the story of Christ’s hand is a story of love. “Jesus put forth his hand”; “He laid his hands on them”; “He took her by the hand.” It was Christ’s hands which broke the bread that fed the hungry multitude. It was the same hands which broke the bread for His disciples at their last supper. Yes, and these loving hands were nailed to the Cross for you and me. And these hands of Christ’s are still busy. They are still caring for His children.

They are still ready to help and guide all who come to Him.A mountain climber once came to a dangerous gap in the ice, where the only way of crossing was to place his foot in the outstretched hand of the guide. He hesitated and the man noticed it. “Do not fear, sir,” said the guide. “That hand has not yet lost a man.”Boys and girls, we may trust ourselves to Christ.

He never lost, He never will lose, any who come to Him.

Genesis 9:16

The Rainbow And the bow shall be in the cloud.—Genesis 9:16.There have been many fancies in different countries about the rainbow. One is that where the rainbow rests there is buried gold; but go as far as you will, you can never reach the spot where the rainbow rests. Some people have called it a bridge from earth to heaven. The old Greeks called it Iris, the messenger of the gods to men, who carried the staff of peace in her hand. That was a beautiful fancy.We know that the rainbow is neither a bridge nor a being. It is the rays of the sun shining on falling rain, seen against the background of a black cloud, like the screen of a magic lantern.

The rays of the sun, which seem white or colorless, are really made up of seven colors. The raindrops act as a prism, that is, they divide the white rays into their separate colors, and we see all seven—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet.

You may see the same thing in a piece of glass with many sides, such as you sometimes find on chandeliers.There are many lessons that the rainbow teaches us, but I want to mention just two.1. The first is that we should look beyond the surface of things, that we should try to get into their inner meaning. You know you are living not in one world, but in two. There is the outer world of things which can be seen and handled, and just because it is so near and so visible we think it is the only world. But there is also the inner world of thinking and feeling, and that is the real world after all.Wordsworth once wrote a poem about a man called Peter Bell. And he tells us that this man had wandered about the country for thirty-two years.

Over hill and dale, by woodland and stream he had roamed from Cornwall to Inverness and yet—A primrose by a river’s brimA yellow primrose was to him,And it was nothing more.Wordsworth himself once saw a solitary primrose clinging to a rock, but he saw in it much more than “a yellow primrose.” He saw in it a proof of God’s care. If God could keep that little lonely primrose safely rooted to the rock, then He could take care of His great, big world and all the people in it.

If God could give the little primrose a new life every spring, then He could give His children a new life and a new body when they were done with this old tired body here below.At some seasons the fields of Palestine are covered with bright wild-flowers till they are a blaze of color. They are so common that people are used to them and hardly notice them. It was the same in Jesus’ day.No one ever thought of taking much notice of the wild-flowers. Perhaps the children gathered them to make garlands, or plucked bunches with their hot little hands and left them to wither by the roadside. But Jesus said, “Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they work not, neither do they spin: yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” And He taught them that if God so clothed the lilies, He would also clothe them.Long before men were on the earth the rain had fallen and the sun had shone, and before Noah’s day many men had seen rainbows and had looked at them with curiosity, or fear, or admiration. But Noah, beholding the lovely thing in the midst of the dark mist and cloud and rain, saw in it the token of God’s mercy.

It was a promise to him from God of His kindness ever after.So try to get beyond the surface, boys and girls; look for the hand of God in all His beautiful, wonderful world. The world is far more marvelous than a fairy palace if we have only eyes to see it.

God has written His messages of love and mercy on every little flower that blows, on every little insect that spreads its wings on the summer breeze, on every snowflake, on every little fleecy cloud, on every crimson sunset. Have we eyes to read God’s messages?2. And the other lesson is that we should look for the rainbow in the rain. For the rain comes to us all, sooner or later, the rain of trouble and difficulty.God knows that if the sun were always shining on His world the little flowers would become parched, and would wither and die. God knows that if the sunshine of prosperity were always shining on our lives, the beautiful flowers of kindness and sympathy and love and unselfishness would shrivel up and decay. And so in His love He sometimes sends us the rain of sorrow and difficulty in order that these fair flowers of character may come to perfection.But there is always a rainbow with God’s rain, and He means you to find it.

He means you to look for the bright side—The inner side of every cloudIs bright and shining;I therefore turn my clouds aboutAnd wear them always inside outTo show the lining.Remember it takes the sunshine as well as the cloud to make the rainbow. Look for the sunshine and wear it on your face.

Then you will be one of God’s own sunbeams lightening the dark places of the earth.It isn’t raining rain to me,It’s raining daffodils!In every dimpling drop I seeWild flowers on the hills!A glow of grey engulfs the dayAnd overwhelms the town—It isn’t raining rain to me—It’s raining roses down!It isn’t raining rain tome,But fields of clover bloom,Where any buccaneering beeMay find a bed and room,A health, then, to the happy!A fig to him who frets!It isn’t raining rain to me—It’s raining violets!